Brothers are Forever
by InzanityFirez
Summary: PostS6.  Castiel is the new 'God', Sam's got a few screws loose, Dean's on the losing end of 'stable', and Bobby's just trying to keep them together.  But the fate of the world rests in their hands and Death has a plan that could save Castiel, or end him.
1. Fire and Ice

**I have too many neglected multi-chap fics already...but I HAD to write on post-6. Fair warning: Until Sept 13 when I get the series on DVD, I haven't seen 6 although I've cheated and read most/watched a bit of it. So I'll try to avoid mistakes, but if I make one, kindly let me know in a non-abusive manner. XD Also. There will be at least one OC in this who will be a major player. My opinion on OCs? I'm not generally fond of them and therefore feel bad making them, but I like to see it as...the show has new charries all the time, so it's perfectly believable and as long as they aren't worthless Mary Sue-types...then they should be good. Hopefully. XD Enjoy!**

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_Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice._  
><em>From what I've tasted of desire, I'd hold with those who favor fire.<em>  
><em>But if I had to perish twice, I think I know enough of hate.<em>  
><em>To say that for destruction, ice, is also great and would suffice. <em>  
><em> -Robert Frost, Fire and Ice<em>

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"Dean..."

"Look. Bobby. I'm fine. Alright? Just let me get some damned shut-eye. _Please_." Dean spoke that rare word in a desperate, weary attempt to get away and crawl into what served as his bed. Yeah, Bobby's house was a pretty obvious hideout but as long as Castiel wasn't gunning for their lives at the moment, there wasn't much better of a place to be.

"...Get some rest, then." Bobby said reluctantly, concerned for his younger charge.

"Can do." Dean muttered the reply as he headed to his room and collapsed onto the bed. He was exhausted and aching in more ways than he cared to admit. For someone who was supposedly dead inside, damned if the pain he was feeling wasn't all too alive.

_"Everybody leaves you, Dean. You noticed? Mommy. Daddy. Even Sam. You ever ask yourself why? Maybe it's not them. Maybe, it's you."_

The words of his illusionary mother, courtesy of the dick-with-wings Zachariah, rang in his head. He'd lost someone again. And wasn't it a lot his fault?

_"I am sorry." _

_"Too little, too late."_

Too little, too late. That was what he'd said to Castiel and now, wasn't that all too accurate?

Ben and Lisa were gone, untouchable, out of his fucked up life for good. Sam was...well, he was doing better than anyone could have hoped, putting on a good-soldier face. But the past two nights of listening to Sam's cries and moans while he slept didn't exactly lend to buying the routine. And there was that look in his eyes, that haunted, haggard look that denied any possibility of truth in his weary, forced smile.

And then there was Castiel.

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** Two Days Earlier**

"You will bow down and profess your love unto me, your lord, or I shall destroy you." Bobby, Dean, and Sam looked on in horror as Castiel gazed coldly and triumphantly at them.

Silence filled the room a moment before Dean managed to choke out weakly.

"Cas...c'mon, man...joke's over. You were right, you saved us..but you gotta let those souls go. You aren't God, Cas. You're...just really confused right now."

Castiel turned his cool eyes onto Dean and stared at him for a moment, and for one horrible moment, Dean honestly thought that the other would make good on the 'destroy you' bit. But instead, Castiel shook his head lightly. "Even now, you disbelieve me. You have said before that you believe only what you see. Here I stand, holding the souls of all of Purgatory, having saved you all and having destroyed Rafael. What more do you need to see?"

"You took your vitamins this morning and kicked Rafael's ass. That's great. But that doesn't make you _God_. And don't you think the real God's gonna be pissed if he comes home and finds you stole his name?"

Castiel's look spoke volumes of how little he thought of Dean at the moment, a mixture of disappointment and condescencion that looked more fitting of Zachariah than Castiel. "There is no other God, Dean. If there is, he has long since abandoned us all. But I am different, I am a merciful lord and you should be grateful for that. I will not abandon this world as my predecessor did. When I am prayed to, I will listen, when I am called for, I will answer, and when wickedness spreads I will smite it with the power of Heaven. I will bring Paradise unto this land. " Castiel said solemnly, damn near bursting with a righteous glow.

Dean stared at the angel before him before he whispered. "Who are you? You're not Cas."

"I am God." Castiel replied without hesitation and Bobby and Sam exchanged a tense glance.

Dean, Sam, and Bobby stared at the angel-gone-deity before them and silence stretched between them before Castiel spoke.

"Clearly you will continue your faithless path. I have tried to embrace you in my glory, but you deny me still, even after all that I have done for you. I can do no more but to give you this last choice. Flee. Or die."

Three pairs of eyes widened, but of their owners, only Dean dared speak.

"Cas...please. _Please_. Don't do this. We can fix things. I don't care what crazy you're spewing, we were family. We can be again. I can't lose you too, Cas." Dean tried one last effort to plead with the other, to reach some speck of the Castiel he'd called his best friend and brother.

But the Castiel who gazed at them didn't so much as blink, merely remained silent before he said lowly. "Flee, or die."

Dean stared at the other, unable to believe that the other had truly given them this ultimatum, that it had come to this, but the cold, unfeeling look and expression that the other gave them, far above his usual 'poker face', was proof enough. "We have to go."

"Dean." Sam's voice was anxious, and faintly insistent. Did Sam really think that they could stay?

"You want to get your brains blown out? Cuz' I sure as Hell don't. We're leaving." Dean's eyes never left Castiel's, nor Castiel's his, as he spoke those words lowly.

"Cas! This is crazy! Come on, man, snap out of it!" Sam recovered his stunned state enough to make a protest, and Castiel merely looked at him in response. Bobby came up beside him and took his arm to lead him away as Dean moved to join them.

"Castiel!" Sam shouted the other's name, angry and hurt, confused and in turmoil from his own mental battle, desperate. And then he was gone, led out by Bobby.

Dean stopped at the door and tilted his head to regard Castiel with a face now devoid of expression. "You started this, Cas, you remember that? I didn't make this choice. I didn't betray you. Lisa almost died because of you. I would have made the same decision, whether it was you, or Sam, or Bobby, or my asshole Dad himself. Don't think I'm not grateful for what you did for me, Cas, I wouldn't be alive without you. But you aren't God. And if you have no family...that's your own damned fault." Dean didn't say it to change anything, because he knew it wouldn't, but he wasn't going to walk away and leave that smug bastard without letting him know a little something that was on his mind.

"You made a deal with the devil, Cas. And trust me. You'll pay for it." Dean said, his own past mistakes haunting him as he gave his former friend one last, hard look before he left.

Castiel stared after Dean with an unchanged expression, but his hand clenched and tightened until his fingertips drew blood.

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Dean gazed up at the ceiling with his mouth in a grim line. Lisa and Ben. Gone. Sam. Off his rocker. Castiel. Crazy, gone, and their possible next evil-whose-ass-needs-kicking. Crowley. Same as the former. So basically. Dean had himself, and he was far from as okay as he claimed. An old man with a drinking problem. A well-meaning basket-case. And...well that was about it, wasn't it? A tortured soul, a drunkard, and a loon? That was Earth's big hope for the future.

Freaking wonderful.

"Agh!" The scream from the room over made Dean cringe but it didn't stop him from leaping up from the bed to hurry over. Every time Sam slept, and he had to if only for sheer exhaustion despite his desire to do otherwise, his dreams tormented him and Dean had been insistent that he be the one to deal with it. He didn't give Bobby the chance. Whenever Sam so much as twitched, there was Dean.

What are big brothers for, right?

"Sammy. Sam. Sam!" he shook his brother as he sat on the bedside next to the other. Sam jolted awake and gasped, and nearly lunged forward until Dean caught him by the shoulders and shoved him back down.

"D-ean?" Sam's voice was hoarse before he swallowed hard and gripped his brother's arm in the pale moonlight that streamed in from the window.

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm here. Another nightmare?" Like he even had to ask, but he had to prompt the other somehow. The past two days, Sam hadn't spoken much of his nightmares but that didn't stop Dean from being by his side, or trying.

"..."

Dean was met with silence as a reply and he sighed before he squeezed his brother's shoulder. "Don't gotta tell me if you don't want to." he said, but in so saying, they both knew that he meant just the opposite.

Sam was silent a moment more before he whispered. "I remember it. In Hell's Cage. And without my soul. The things I did..."

"I already told you, man, it's not your fault. I'm not mad or anything." Dean muttered.

Sam fell silent again, unable to put into words what he really felt. That he wasn't the one that Dean should have saved because he knew the strain it would put between them and Dean had enough to worry about. Once again, Dean was back _in_ and technically that was thanks to Sam, albeit soulless Sam. And this time, Lisa and Ben didn't even remember his brother. Dean no longer had a real home to return to, no loving family waiting, no apple-pie life just a quick drive away. Dean had gotten the feel of what it might be like to be a father, to be a husband, Hell, to have a life and be _loved_ outside of their twisted little family.

But that was gone. Dean had once again sacrificed his happiness for them. And now, to top it off, Castiel had gone off the deep-end as well and Sam...he knew that he should have been comforting Dean, but what could he say? Especially when he was so weak himself...the weak link, again...

So Sam didn't dare speak about Adam, or pressure Dean with the burden of his feelings, his remorse, his brother was already suffering more than enough. It had to be a special kind of Hell for his brother, to have had his own real paradise in hand...and then have it be taken away, that was worse than never having it at all, right?

"I'm so sorry." he whispered and he clenched his eyes shut to fight away the water that threatened to well in his eyes. Sam was damaged, weak, and exhausted. Typical rules didn't apply but he was trying to apply them anyway, he had to be strong, or at least pretend to be for Dean's sake.

"For what?" Dean didn't get it, his brow scrunched up a bit as Sam shook his head.

"Everything. For Lis-"

Dean's hand jerked away roughly and he spoke harshly. "I told you, Sam. Never mention...look, shut your mouth or sick or not, I'll kick your ass." he warned. Lisa and Ben was too sore, too touchy, too painful. Not even Sam was allowed to remark upon it.

Sam finally met his brother's gaze and he just gazed at the other sadly. It made Dean uncomfortable as he looked away. "Look, Sammy...I'm fine. And anyway, we got each other again, right? That's what matters. We'll look out for each other. S'the way it should be. You an' me against the world." Dean meant it, but not entirely, and there was some aspect of it that sounded forced, like he was trying to convince himself of it.

Sam was silent again and it dragged on uncomfortably until Dean started to rise. "I'll be in my room if-"

"Dean-" Sam's instant, tense reply caught Dean's attention as he looked down at his brother. Sam stared at him a moment, mouth partially agape before he slowly closed it and then shook his head. "Don't worry about it...you don't have to check on me if...I have another nightmare." It was Sam's turn to be uncomfortable as he shifted his shoulders and stared down at the bed.

There was an admitted awkwardness between them as they stumbled around each other's pain and tried to regain some common, familiar ground. But they were both unsettled, hurt, and betrayed and somewhat by each other. Old scars, new wounds, and their continually growing bond. That bond that transcended general understanding, beyond brotherly love, they sacrificed themselves for each other back and forth, hating and loving each other in a twisted tug-of-war that ultimately pushed them back to each other. They'd fought fate and destiny time and again, and look where they ended up.

Dean stared down at Sam before he suddenly plopped down in the chair beside Sam's bed, and the other turned to Dean in surprise. "Eh, you're right. S'kinda a hassle to run over. So I guess I'll just sleep here if I get tired. I'm too lazy to go back to my room anyway." Dean said with a dismissive shrug as he played it off.

Sam knew better and he shook his head. "Dean, really, it's fine. I'm-"

"Just shut up, Sammy. I'm not moving. So deal with it and get your ass back to sleep." came Dean's 'sweet' reply as he eyed his brother with a faint smirk on his lips.

"Jerk." Sam whispered, feeling bad about needing to lean on his brother again but undeniably comforted by the other's presence. It was his way of saying thank you. Of expressing his affection and gratitude, that little word, their little understanding.

"Bitch." It was amazing how much wealth of heartfelt-crap could be squeezed into that snarky little word. But there it was.

Dean gave a faint, bittersweet smile in the moonlight that curved wearily onto Sam's lips as well.

"Night, Dean." Sam said, reminded of nights spent together in their childhood, although then they'd been cuddled up, Dean had been the 'giant', and there was generally more touchy-feely crap, admittedly.

"Night, Sammy." Dean replied back softly as he settled in the chair to watch his brother sleep, reminded of the past himself and ultimately it was a sort of lullabye that soothed them both. That familiarity, that bit of restored bond as Sam drifted off to sleep. And for the rest of the night, he had no nightmares.

The same could not be said of Dean.

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**So...Chaos and fluff abound! This isn't Wincest...or Destiel...although both are cute...I tend to lean towards Destiel though...but I digress! I like the brotherly relationships between them and I do approve of Lisa/Dean so I think that's how this story will go. Bromance instead of romance. XD Except for Lisa/Dean romance. Or whatnot. I am really OCD about keeping in character and keeping it strictly in story-line. So I tried to write the Castiel bit based on the last ep and that faint spoiler that's come out for season 7, but can't be perfect. I'll try to keep this story on track once season 7 comes out, but we'll see what happens. I'll make it work. XD ENJOY!~ And just out of curiosity...as fellow fans, I am interested in your opinions just in general...Lisa/Dean? Destiel? Wincest? Brotherly only? Will you be seriously pissed if Castiel isn't redeemed? BECAUSE I WILL. Share your thoughts if only because I will repay you with virtual cookies and hugs? XD~**


	2. Where the Sleeping Demons Lie

**Next chapter! Whee! XD So, just saying, Death's entrance is KILLER sliding up in his 'pale horse' and having that song and looking damned sexy for an older gentleman. Oh so undeniably. XD Just saying. XD This story will include: Dean, Sam, Bobby, Cas, Death, Tessa, angels, demons, and possibly a few dead comrades, dun dun dun! And so on. XD~ Also, I edited the first chapter to include a poem from Robert Frost since I ended up naming the title of the chapter after it. I think it fits the situation well. I may include snippets of such things (poems/quotes) in the future, or not, it's not usually my thing. I like to stick to my own work and such. But it's kind of fun and wouldn't change the story. Just... eh, provoke thoughts? XD I dunno. I'll think on it. Might just be a beginning of the story thing. XD Dean is fire and Castiel is ice for sure though. XD~  
><strong>

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"Morning, sunshine." Bobby's words caused Dean to wince a bit as he squinted his eyes against the sunlight after stumbling into the kitchen almost immediately after waking up.

"Yeah, same to you, sweetheart." Dean muttered as he pulled out a chair and plopped down on it heavily as he rubbed his head.

All the while, Sam was already across from him and he watched Dean with a faint frown but didn't say a word. He knew that Dean didn't want Bobby alerted to the fact that Sam wasn't the only one having nightmares...which was why he'd told Bobby that his shiny new black eye was a product of flailing around due to his own nightmares.

_"Or I shall destroy you.." Castiel intoned._

_"You're already dead inside." Famine said, amused._

_"Maybe, it's you." Mary's illusion taunted._

_"Yeah, I've heard that promise from a Winchester before." Ellen scoffed into the phone.  
><em>

_"He's not the only one you got away from." Dean noted as he and Sam stood in the memory of the night he'd left home._

_"Baboom! Baboom!" Lillith shrieked. _

_John whispered into Dean's ear, words that stopped his heart cold in that sterile hospital room.  
><em>

_"Because I'm such a saint...I'll give you one year." The Crossroads Demon said silkily._

_Yellow-eyed Sam gripped his neck as he strangled him painfully._

_"Stop him. Or we will." Castiel warned.  
><em>

_"You had such potential, Dean..." Alistair sighed almost mournfully._

_"If you make me walk through that door...you won't like who walks back out." Dean said lowly.  
><em>

_"I love you, Dean." The dream-Lisa Braeden smiled at him before she faded to reveal a dying Lisa in the hospital.  
><em>

_Jo and Dean kissed, for the first and last time as her life bled away.  
><em>

_"You're gonna die, Dean! And this is what you're going to become!" The black-eyed Dean grinned menacingly._

_"No!" Dean jerked awake and slammed a fist in front of him...right into a worried Sam's face. _

_Sam cursed and clutched his face as he pulled back, and Dean breathed heavily as he finally gained enough cognizance to realize where he was and what had just happened. "Damnit, Sammy. I'm sorry. Shit. Are you alright?" he leaned forward to set a hand on his brother's head and examine it in the poor light._

_Sam shrugged him off with a nod as he eyed his brother. "I'm fine, Dean...but...you were...shaking. And you kept muttering 'no'...you had a nightmare too." It wasn't a question._

_Dean was silent a moment before he chuckled. "Yeah. I had a dream Uriel was trying to get in my pants. Freaky-ass-angel porn right there." _

_"Don't lie to me, Dean." Sam said softly. He didn't generally call his brother out on his indifference, but this was different. They were both too broken at present to play this game. And he was worried about his big brother._

_Dean's jaw tightened before he looked away. "It's nothin', Sam. Don't worry about it." _

_Sam stared at him, just stared, and Dean felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny before he rose. "I'm going for a walk." _

_"Then I'll go with you." Sam started to rise and Dean scowled._

_"Like Hell you will. Stay in bed." _

_"Then you stay too." Sam said, a stubborn set to his expression that did nothing to ease Dean's scowl. _

_"Pain in the ass." _

_"Stubborn bastard." _

_Dean glared faintly before he plopped back down in his chair. "There. Happy now?" _

_"It's a start." Sam moved so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed as he regarded his brother. "You gonna tell me what it was about, or do I have to keep bugging you?" _

_Dean's faint glare intensified a moment before he gave in somewhat. "I was dreaming about...things." _

_Sam stared at the other expectantly before he prompted. "..Things...?" _

_Dean sighed. "Cas. And the fake Mom. Alistair. A few others. Stuff they said, just crap. Don't know why I got so worked up." he shrugged, but Sam could tell that the other was deeply troubled, he knew his brother inside and out. _

_"Yeah, well, whatever they said, they're wrong. You know that, right?" When Dean didn't reply, Sam continued. "I don't know what else you meant but I can guess what the fake Mom said. And she was wrong, Dean...you've...had a lot of crap handed to you but it's not your fault...I know when I left, it wasn't your fault." _

_"Yeah, you've said that." Dean's posture became less troubled and more closed off. It was a touchy subject. The whole 'Sam-leaving-and-Sam-choosing-a-demon-over-Dean' thing. _

_"I meant it, Dean. Look, I know we've had our differences but-"_

_"-Just shut up, Sam. I'm tired. I don't wanna talk about this." _

_"Dean..." _

_"Leave it, Sam! Damnit! I had a nightmare. Big deal. I don't need you to get all psycho-babble on me."_

_"Psycho-babble?" Sam replied dryly._

_"Just stop, Sam. Please." _

_Sam sighed at that. It wasn't over, not this conversation or the shadows hanging over them, but for now he'd let it drop. "Fine. But we're not done talking about this." _

_"The Hell we aren't." Dean muttered._

_Sam shot his brother a severe look before he leaned back. The brothers fell silent a moment before Sam dared to add softly. "I'm not leaving, Dean. It's you and me against the world." _

_Dean didn't reply, merely closed his eyes, but he could tell from the way that his brother's posture relaxed and a reluctantly more peaceful expression came over his face that the other had heard him loud and clear, and been pleased by them. _

_And for now, that was enough._

Dean finally cast a glance up at Sam who seemed determinedly focused on his cereal. And before he knew it, he found himself laughing. A throaty, bitter sound that turned into something more helpless, like he wanted to laugh or cry and couldn't quite decide which.

"Dean?" Sam looked at his brother in concern and Bobby moved over to the table, expression hesitant.

Dean kept his laughter up a moment, his shoulders shaking as he put a hand over his eyes and simply grinned, but the look in his eyes when he lowered his hands was full of pain and remorse, and bitter.

"Damned apocalypse is knocking at our door again, we're fighting _God_, and Sammy's eating a bowl of cereal. Cereal. Our lives are so messed up, man." Dean lowered his head as his shoulders shook a bit again and he chuckled faintly even as his lips twisted in pain.

Sam and Bobby exchanged a glance and Bobby moved to put a hand on Dean's shoulder when the latter jerked and stood up suddenly, startling Sam and Bobby both.

"Bobby, you got today's paper? I'm gonna look for a case."

"_What_?" Sam and Bobby were in unison as they stared at Dean as though he'd grown a third eye.

Dean stared at them with a blank expression, as though it were perfectly natural for him to ask that, and after his 'perfectly natural' semi-minor-break-down just a moment ago. "What? Just cuz' Cas took his crazy pills this morning, we're gonna stop being hunters? Right now we don't have a rat's ass chance of fighting him, we don't even know where to start, unless you've got some God-killing hoodoo I don't know about. For now, he's gonna leave us be, looks like. So in the meantime, rather than sit around moping, I'd like to get out there and do my damned job. Monsters aren't taking a holiday, neither am I. You with me, or what?" Dean looked between the two who again exchanged a glance before Sam spoke.

"We're with you, Dean, obviously...it's just...maybe we should take it easy, try to figure things out..."

"What's to figure out? We can't stop Cas right now, can't reason with him. Crowley's out there doing God knows, 'scuse me, _Cas knows what_, and we're not exactly in the best shape at the moment. We're kind of screwed. So like I said. I'd like to at least do my job rather than sit around here. Got a problem with that?"

Sam and Bobby were silent a moment before Bobby moved around the table to thwack Dean's head, who shot him a reproachful look and scowled. "I've got one, ya idjit. In case it escaped your notice, but Sam's not exactly up for a fight right now and neither are you. Now you can pretend you're okay-look at me when I talk to you, boy-" Bobby snapped when Dean started to move away, annoyed, and Dean reluctantly looked back at him, "But I know better and so does Sam. You wanna run off half-cocked to be an ass and get yourself killed, fine. But don't think Sam's in any condition to be dragged off with you. And don't think I'm letting you, either."

Dean snorted. "You're gonna stop me?"

"I've got a panic room with your name on it, kid." Bobby warned.

"Try it." Dean challenged and he and Bobby glared before Sam rose and moved between them.

"Look, will you both just...stop it?" Sam rubbed his head and he didn't look well. "Dean, we'll take a look at cases, do some research. But Bobby's right, we can't just up and leave right now. This is hard on all of us. So would you please just...not be stupid right now?"

Dean gritted his teeth. "Sam..." he growled.

Sam stared down at his brother, nonplussed, and Dean ultimately made an irritated noise and muttered something snarky before he sat back down.

"Fine. You wanna sit around and talk shop? _Fine_. Let's waste some time." Dean grumbled as he slouched in his seat and glared at the table.

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances that were both relieved and exasperated before Sam sat back down and Bobby returned to what he'd been doing.

Sam hazarded a glance at his big brother before he passed him the cereal box. "Lucky Charms. Your favorite."

Dean looked up and stared at Sam with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. How had they gone from being ready to strangle each other to talking about damned _Lucky Charms_? But in the end, with a weary chuckle, Dean took the box and poured himself a bowl that he tore into with increasing relish. "Thanks, Sam. Bobby." he muttered. And it was more than the cereal. Dean did believe that they should keep up their job, no arguing that, but rushing out while they were all so messed up was just begging for some monster to bite their heads off. And he was grateful, more than grateful, that they gave a damned and were with him.

Sam smiled faintly through his own bowl, and even Bobby was a bit more relaxed. "No problem, bro." Sam said as the trio fell into a comfortable silence to pass their morning.

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**Mmm. So...somewhat more fluff. Ish. And such. XD Awkward brotherly bonding and ass-kicking all around and Bobby's just like...'ya, idjits'...XD Meanwhile, Cas is taking over the world!..Or not. I want to write him some chapter-love. But OCD is making it difficult. I want to know for sure if it's Cas-gone-crazy, or the souls possessing him, or someone's taken over, or what. In the interviews, Mischa makes it sound like Cas is himself but confused, Jensen makes it sound like Cas is possessed by a God, and the previews make it sound like Cas is just gone. Bwah. I'll bring him in though. Eventually. Or just not dwell on inner-monologue too much unless I decide to just take poetic license and write what I feel is most accurate. XD Whee! XD~**


	3. She's An Angel Dressed in Black

**Next chapter! Creative juices are flowing for this...I think I'll hold off on literary additions though. Fire and Ice was okay, but that'll be it. I believe. XD Bwah. I can't wait to get to Death. He's just so...kick ass. Mmm.~**

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"So we've got a man who jumped off a bridge. A woman who drove her car into the river. And...some guy who ate too much pie and ended up being diagnosed with a rare illness..all in different states...in other words...not much." Sam commented as he finished scanning the newspaer in his hands.

Dean huffed. "_Now_ things get quiet? Damnit. Just our luck."

"You _want_ something to start trouble?" Sam lifted a brow.

Dean shrugged. "Just need something to hunt, that's all."

"Yeah...can do...thanks." Bobby's voice, faintly indistinct from the room over, came closer as he ended his phone call and entered the room. "Might have something after all."

"_Hallelujah_." Dean clapped a hand on the table. "What's the hunt, Bobby? Demons? Bloodsuckers? Banshee-bitch?"

Bobby frowned and seemed reluctant after that, but he begrudgingly answered anyway. "Not sure. There's all kinds of strange reports. The big ticket winner would be the bodies found with their hearts ripped out and a white feather at each scene."

"Hearts ripped out...so a werewolf?" Dean queried.

"Not sure about that. Only the heart's been messed with, and what's the point of the feather? Also, turns out all of the victims had a message tied to the feather."

"What kind of message?" Sam asked.

"A commandment. Whichever one they'd broken, apparently."

Dean and Sam stared at Bobby before Dean said slowly. "Wait...you're telling me something's yanking out hearts and leaving little bible-crap feathers? So this is some kind of bible nut-job?"

"I don't know that either. But I don't think it's a human doing it, not unless humans can shove their hand into a chest cavity and rip a heart out just like that."

"So you think Cas had something to do with it?"

"Doesn't seem like his style, even now that he's gone off the deep end. I think something else is going on."

"But let me guess, you don't know what?" Dean asked dryly.

"Well if you got any better ideas, smart-ass, I'm open to hear them."

Dean held up his hands as if in surrender and pondered it a moment before he shrugged. "That's it, then. We'll track down the feather-duster. Where's this going down at?"

"Not far from where Purgatory got popped."

"Figures." Dean muttered. "Well, Hell, maybe something got out after all?"

"Maybe." Bobby agreed, but he didn't seem sure. "Would have thought Castiel would have noticed though."

"Yeah, well, I would have thought a lot of things about Cas." Dean muttered and the trio fell silent a moment before Dean rose. "That's it then. We'll check it out. Find out what kind of crazy-ass monster is passing out unholy judgment."

"Dean, we don't even know what we're up against here. If this thing is anything like Eve..."

"Then we'll kill it's pansy ass too." Dean replied smoothly.

"Cas isn't here to save us this time if things go wrong, Dean. We can't be...reckless."

Dean shot his brother a stony look. "Hey, we don't need Cas to hunt. We've been kicking evil's ass way before the angel brigade showed up to screw us all over. I'm not going to let some evil sons of bitches party hardy just because we can't get the magic band-aid anymore. So let me ask again. You with me, or not?"

Sam sighed. "I'm with you, Dean."

"Bobby?" Dean glanced at the other hunter.

Bobby's frown hadn't eased but he relented as well. "Yeah, fine. This is stupid as Hell. But you're not wrong either. Someone's gotta stop these things, and it ain't gonna be anyone else."

"Damn straight. You two start researching if you can, I'm gonna finish fixing my baby. We'll leave tomorrow." After all, the Impala hadn't exactly been pristine after the whole getting flipped incident. And Dean had been half-heartedly throwing himself into fixing her up in between Sam-duty the past couple of days.

"Sure thing, Captain." Bobby said, rather dryly himself. Dean's attitude was more surly than usual and it did little to ease his own surliness, or the fact that Dean had voted himself the unofficial leader of their little squadron. But that was for the best, like it or not, Dean was the strongest man present.

And like it or not...if Castiel did come for them, it would be Dean he'd want.

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The clink of metal and the gyration of turning gears filled the air as Sam stepped out into the sunlight and padded over to the car. He was silent a moment as he watched his brother's legs and listened to the familiar sounds. Here was Dean. Being strong, again. But he'd seen the panicked look on Dean's face the night before, the Hellish torment in his eyes, heard the quickening of his brother and the desperation of his repeated 'no'. Dean was far from okay, they were all far from okay, but Sam figured that it was the worst for Dean. Yeah, Sam was reeling from Hell, but Dean had been there done that. And yeah, it sucked that Castiel had called it quits on them, but like Cas had said, Dean and he shared a more 'profound bond'. He knew that Dean felt like he'd been betrayed by a brother...again, and that was Sam's fault.

And then there were Lisa and Ben.

Sam had always fancied himself the normal one. The one who'd wanted a different life. But one look at the way Dean stared at Lisa, at the way he smiled at Ben, at the whole different person he had seemed to become with them and his occasional, bitter, wistful statements and it was clear who really wanted the normalcy. Sam couldn't imagine doing the apple-pie life, maybe if Jessica were alive, maybe...but Dean? He had it. A _family_. And he'd given it up for them. And made himself non-existent to said family to protect them. Sam wasn't sure he could make the same choice with Jessica if it came to that. He'd want to find a way to make it work, to protect her, but Dean...family was everything to him and he'd sooner crush his heart into dust than risk his family coming to harm.

Everyone that died. Everyone that he couldn't save, he took it as a personal failure. A reflection on his own inadequacy and worthlessness. Rather than focusing on how damned amazing he'd done, he brooded over every single minute mistake. Dean shouldered the responsibility of the world on his shoulders, and that wasn't an exaggeration. Could he really blame Dean for having wanted to give up and say 'yes' to Michael? If Dean wanted to die and end it all, did Sam, who had abandoned him in so many ways over the years, have any right to stop him?

But right or not, he would. Every time. Dean would keep sacrificing himself for Sam and Sam would keep on doing it for Dean. They were two halves of the same soul, really, and they'd always be drawn back to each other. Right or wrong, Sam was clinging to his big brother just like he always had, whether Dean saw it or not. And Sam saw the righteous man that Dean really was, how strong he really was, how good of a man he was...even if he couldn't see it himself.

Someday, maybe, he could show him.

"Hey, Dean." he rapped on the car and he saw Dean's legs jerk a bit and heard the clank of metal and a low, "Ow", as Dean presumably gave himself a mild injury while being startled.

Dean slid out from under the car and sat up rubbing his head with a frown. "What the Hell? Give a man a little warning before you sneak up on him." he grumbled.

Sam offered his brother an amused look as a reply before he held out a beer. "Thought you might be thirsty."

Dean blinked and then eyed the beer as if suspicious a moment, but he took it anyway and gave it a good chug before he regarded his brother. "This isn't some kind of...'we gotta talk' thing, is it? Cuz, man, I'm not in the mood."

"Nope. No talking..not if you don't want to."

Dean groaned and leaned his back against the Impala. "Just leave me alone." he somewhat whined as he took a sullen drink of his beer.

Sam took a spot leaning against the side of the Impala as he looked down at his brother and drank his own beer. "I was thinking...maybe you'd show me what you're doing."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he stared up at his brother. "...Huh?"

"Y'know. Show me what you're doing. Teach me some more car stuff. It's the big brother's job, right?" Dean had said so, not long before his trip downstairs.

Dean stared at Sam as if trying to divine some sort of information from the sight of him, but in the end, he took a long drink of beer and muttered. "Fine. Get your girly ass down here."

"Wow, thanks, Dean. Really needed that self-esteem booster."

"S'another big brother thing. You'll get over it."

"Yeah, I bet." Sam muttered, a faint smile on his face as he crouched down.

Dean shoved a wrench into his hands and wiggled his way under the car after finishing his beer and setting it aside. Sam hesitated and then joined him as he found himself staring up at a mass of mechanical nonsense.

"See this? Came loose when she flipped...gotta tighten this here...take the wrench." he shoved it at Sam who fumbled with it before he began tightening the bolt. "This here..." Dean went on to explain mechanics of the car and Sam did his merry best to focus and keep up. And he did a decent job, in between his own thoughts and the way he found himself watching his brother, memorizing his movements, his expressions, his general posture. It reminded him of when they were kids and Sam's attitude was that of wanting to be just like his big brother.

Sam twisted another bolt and for the first time in awhile, he saw Dean actually smile a little. "Not bad, Sammy. I'll wisen you up yet."

Sam chuckled a little as he smiled back at his brother. "Glad to hear it, bro."

Four hours, six beers, several ounces of grease and sweat, and some crappy brotherly stuff later, the Impala was as good as she'd be getting for the time being and the Winchester brothers had fallen into a familiar sync that felt good. Neither was as good as they could be, but for now, they were doing better. They had each other. And as long as they had that...

Then they would be just fine.

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**I have no idea where the Hell all this fluff is coming from. Let's call it the calm before the storm. XD But it makes sense too. The brothers are very hurt and vulnerable and just damned tired right now. They're clinging to each other in a whole new way. Lucky the Impala is there to keep her boys on their toes. And having Wincest-y moments in a non-cesty way. XD~ Yay for two updates in one day! I feel like I'm on a roll or something. XD~ And thank you, forshizzle, for being my first review! *showers you with hugs and cookies* Much adored~ And by the by, I'm kind of making some things up as I go. I have some things planned and other things are like..pshh. I was gonna just have some regular ole baddie to get them to where Death will find Dean, but instead I tied in a greater evil that might bring in some of the other Gods/mythology and such. By the by, if anyone can guess about the hearts and feathers, you will be my hero. Hint: Think pyramids. XD~ That whole thing totally just came to me when I was thinking Supernatural instead of focusing on work. XD Typical. XD~  
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	4. The Monsters They Create

**I should be writing other things...but this is way too addictive. XD Yay for my once-a-week days off! XD~**

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_"Where the Hell am I?" Dean glanced around at his unfamiliar surroundings. Creepy forest? Check. Eerie fog? Check. Mysterious silence in the dead of night? Check. _

_Freaky ass dream? Check._

_The thing that clued him into the fact that it was a dream was probably something to do with the fact that a tree had winked at him, and a squirrel had given a sailor a run for his money for having a foul mouth. _

_Weird._

_"Dean Winchester...look at you, all grown up and nowhere to go. You looked prettier before though. All strung up by your meat." a voice came from behind him and he whirled around to find Alistair smiling at him, leering. "Honestly, it was a real-turn on for me, and I'm not easily impressed. But something about the way your flesh hung from your body, the way you screamed..." he inhaled as though smelling something pleasant and gave a satisfied sigh. "And the way you tore into those souls...a monster after my own heart." _

_"Alistair." Dean growled as he reached for his gun by instinct, and found that he had none. "You're dead. This is a dream." _

_Alistair pursed his lips. "Well, yes...but so what? I'm as real as needed for you, darling." _

_"Dead." Dean repeated, as though that would dispel the figment before him. _

_Alistair merely chuckled as he took a step forward and came to stand before Dean. "You know, it was never supposed to end this way. I was grooming you, you know. At first you were only necessary to break the seal, worthless beyond that, except as a meat puppet for that angel-prick...but me? I was rooting for you, really. For you to join our ranks, become my star pupil, flay souls beside me..." _

_"Go to Hell." Dean said coldly, but he didn't move away from Alistair and there was a tenseness to his body._

_"Only if you come with me...I'm so lonely without you." he murmured as he traced a finger against Dean's cheek. _

_"No. You're dead. As in, fuck off and die already." Dean shoved Alistair's hand away but the other caught his wrist and dug his nails into Dean's flesh and it burned and faintly bled beneath his touch as his nails dug in, but he didn't release the other._

_Alistair leaned in until their lips were almost touching, breathing in the Winchester's scent and he met the other's gaze as his eyes suddenly went stark yellow and it was Azazel's voice that came from Alistair's stolen form as he leaned in to whisper in a stunned Dean's ear. "Daddy says 'hello'." _

Dean awoke with a start as he jerked in his seat, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He became aware of the fact that someone was speaking his name and he turned to face a concerned looking Sam who was driving his Impala. Memories came back to him as he recalled giving the other the turn of the wheel after a long bout of driving. He'd been reluctant, but tired, and he knew that Sam was antsy...and then he'd slept...and dreamed of that.

"Another nightmare, Dean? What was it this time?"

"Don't remember." Dean muttered instantly and his voice was hoarse, as though he hadn't drunk anything in ages. Not unlike how it had felt after he'd woken up in that damned coffin and dug his way out of his more earthly Hell, after Castiel had... And his arm burned faintly. Dean pulled back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal his wrist where nail marks had thin pinpricks of blood and the faint area around them was scorched with finger imprints that matched those he had received in the dream.

"Shit." he whispered, as visions of yellow-eyes danced in his head.

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"Looks clean considering. You know. People are getting their hearts ripped out." Dean noted as he leaned against the side of the Impala to survey the landscape. Several hours after waking up, they'd arrived and Dean had managed to quell, or rather, ignore Sam's curiosity and concern and thus managed to avoid talking about what he'd dreamt about.

Alistair. And Yellow-Eyes. The monster who'd nearly made a monster of him, the monster who'd made something of a monster of his father. Both were demons who'd twisted his life in ways beyond most human understanding, or understanding in general, really. They'd seemed so real, and then his hand...but the two of them were dead, no two ways about it, so that was that.

But then...what had dug it's nails into his flesh...and burned him?

"So far all of the killings have taken place in about a four mile radius, four killings, four commandments. Kill. Adultery. False Witness. And other gods."

Dean was stirred from his thoughts by his brother as the other joined him and he lifted a brow. "Wait...those are the commandments? Kill, make merry, and lie?"

Sam shot his brother a sour look. "You don't know the commandments?"

"I'm not exactly a church-goer, Sammy." Dean replied wryly.

Sam made a 'whatever' face. "Alright, well there's ten commandments. A bunch of 'thou shalt nots'. No killing, adultery, false witness against neighbors, honor the Sabbath day, no Gods before God, no idolatry to images, no coveting, honor thy mother and father, don't say God's name in vain, and don't steal." Sam looked up to find his brother staring at him like he'd grown the third eye this time.

"Dude. You don't seriously have those memorized, do you?" Sam's faint pout was all the answer he needed and he muttered. "You are such a nerd..."

"Anyway." Sam restored focus to the task at hand. "Bobby and I still haven't worked out where the feather fits in, we figure the hearts are some kind of righteous punishment. So that leaves stealing, God's name in vain, dishonoring parents, the Sabbath, no idolatry, and no coveting."

"This is crap, man...I wanted a hunt, not a lesson in bible-spew." Dean grumbled.

"Well too bad. This is what we've got." Sam noted as he scanned the notes in his hands before he tossed them into the Impala and they locked her up. "In the past three days since...Purgatory opened, that's been four kills, two to start with and one each night since. It's a pretty sure bet there'll be another tonight."

"Great. Now we just have to hit up anyone that's stolen, cursed, screwed their parents, or worshipped teen idols. That really narrows it down."

"It's better than nothing." Sam muttered. "Last night's kill took place not far from here. We can check that out first, see if we can find a clue."

"Let's get to it then."

An hour, some intensive searching, EMF reading, and sulphur-searching later...they'd found...

"Nothing. Not a damn thing here. It's so clean it's scary." Dean noted of the alley way.

"You'd think there'd be something..." he glanced upwards, but there were no windows, it was a dead end alley. The only one who might have seen something would have been someone walking by, but no witnesses had come forward and he doubted they'd be about to even if they had saw something.

"So what now? Check the corpses, maybe? We haven't used our FBI suits in awhile." Dean suggested.

Sam glanced up towards the sky. They had about five hours till nightfall, and if they didn't find something fast, namely the next target, then someone else was going to die. "Corpses it is."

...

"I'm Detective Rogers, this is my partner, Detective Owens. Mind if we examine the latest victim?" A wardrobe change and I.D. swap later, the pair found their way to the proper morgue where an overweight man eyed them mistrustfully as he scrutinized their badges.

"I don't know." his voice was nasally. "What does the FBI want with some mutilated bodies anyway?"

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean put on a tough-voice and snapped. "When did official business become a citizen's concern? You want me to put you away for obstruction of justice?"

The man's mistrust intensified and he begrudgingly pointed. "Down the hall. On your left. Clean up after yourselves." he said snidely.

Dean seemed like he might give a snappy reply but Sam tweaked his brother's elbow covertly. "Will do. Thank you." he said in a curtly polite fashion as he led Dean down the hall.

"Weaselly little..."

"Cool it, Dean. Job. Limited time. Focus." Sam emphasized.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean muttered as they found their victim and slid him out. Sure enough, the chest cavity was caved as if someone had literally reached in and yanked the heart out. Everything else was undisturbed, not a scratch or odd mark anywhere. "Talk about a heartbreaker." he murmured, but Sam didn't find humor in his response and Dean dropped it as he peered into the hole. "That's just nasty.."

"Definitely not a werewolf though. Way too clean. Not even a bite." Sam noted as he began examining the rest of the man's body. He picked up the man's hand and nearly dismissed it until he noticed something under his fingernails. "What the...?"

"Sam?"

"There's something under his nail...it's...I don't know." It was dark green and just a sliver, it was slick and somewhat leathery. "It's...skin. From...something."

Dean examined it from beside Sam. "Probably whatever killed Mr. Clean here."

"I'll call Bobby, see if he knows of any...green-skinned...things. Failing that, there's a college not far from here, possibly we can get them to analyze it."

"Yeah, that'll go over well. 'Hey, geeks! FBI here, we're not really FBI so instead of actual experts we thought we'd just get out your chem set and have a ball'."

Sam shot Dean an unamused look. "We'll tell them it's urgent. Since, as you said, we don't have any experts-we don't really another choice."

"Just saying." Dean shrugged.

Sam eyed his brother a moment before he shook his head. "On second thought, _you_ call Bobby, I'll take this over the lab now. It's better if one of us stays out anyway and keeps an eye out for the possible next victim."

Dean gave him a bland look. "Like I said, not much of a church-goer, but I have heard of 'he who has not sinned, stone the bastard first'." Sam crinkled his nose at his brother's loose interpretation. "Everyone in this town has probably broken a commandment at least once, how the Hell are we supposed to single out someone?"

"Just hope we get lucky, because if he we don't, someone else is going to die." Sam said matter-of-factly.

Dean's expression hardened and his lips tightened into a grim line. Sam knew that those words would get Dean to focus, raise his protective hackles as it were. "Fine. Be careful, Sammy."

"You too." Sam said with a knowing glance at his brother as they closed up shop on the body, and left the morgue and each other in silence.

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**So I was going to make this longer, but I think I'll split the next bit into two chaps. Or one long-ish one. Sam's POV as he does his thing, and then Dean's as he does his and possibly gets his visit from Death...or something. XD Enjoy!~ By the way...three updates in one day...I'm kinda sorta happy with myself. Days off rule. XD~**


	5. How Doth The Little Crocodile

**Next chapter! Whee! Thank you for the reviews, forshizzle! They brighten my existence : D XD Also...I noted I put 'Detectives' earlier, but it should have been 'Agents'...I'll correct that...eventually. XD**

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North County College. Boy, did this place bring memories back. Different college, but the same feeling.

_"Hey, Sam, congrats on that test score! You're going places, buddy." Brady clapped a hand on Sam's back and he grinned sheepishly._

_"The only place he's going is home with me." Jessica announced as she sauntered past Brady and playfully placed herself between the two as she leaned up to kiss Sam's cheek. "Congratulations, scholar." she teased lightly. _

College had been the best time of his life.

At least, that was what he'd always thought. But time away, having lost and gained what he had, having lived as he had...he had learned to finally appreciate his family. It wasn't perfect, maybe not even ideal, but it was his and they'd done everything for him. _Dean_ had done everything, even sell his soul, for Sam. So yeah, now and again when he allowed himself to look back...there were plenty of brotherly memories mixed into his favorites. If Dean could see his Heaven now...well, he wouldn't find much to complain about.

Images flashed through his mind. Images of Dean and his cocky grin, his playful gestures, the way he'd looked as he'd comforted little Sam to sleep, his wink as he'd bitch-slapped Destiny as decided not to give up, his soft gaze during his nighttime vigils at Sam's side, his angry, big brother-face as he'd proverbially dragged Sam back from every kind of Hell time and again. And that was the tip of the iceberg.

Sam felt like he could barely contain what was inside of him, he couldn't look into a mirror without remembering, without seeing his other halves, without realizing everything he'd done and felt.

But there was no mirror now, just a mission, and he needed to focus.

Sam straightened his tie and steeled himself as he headed inside.

"Aimee! Wait up!" A boy called out after a girl who turned to smile at him with a giggle as he caught up to her and grabbed her into his arms.

"Caught me."

"Caught you. And now I'll never let you go." the boy agreed and explained with a grin as he gave her a warm kiss.

_Hands closed over Sam's eyes and he stiffened at first, years of training about to kick in when he heard a giggle as Jessica murmured. "Guess who?" _

_Sam turned and caught her wrists with a smile. "The most beautiful girl in the room?" he guessed._

_"Try in the school, genius. It's a little more romantic." she teased as she leaned closer._

_"My mistake." Sam chuckled as he kissed her._

"Congratulations, James...you scored the highest grade in class...you're going to go far, you know that?" A teacher spoke to a young man beaming, but studious as well. He'd worked hard for this, after all, and wanted to work harder to accomplish his goals.

_"Mr. Winchester, you've scored the highest grade in your class, and the upperclass besides...your writing is also quite exceptional...you could have a future in more than law, but I believe you'll be successful in any field." his teacher praised._

_Sam tried not to grin and instead he gave a solemn nod and shot his teacher a grateful look. "Thank you, Mr. Conners. I appreciate that." _

Sam tilted his gaze away and ignored the curious gazes on him. He had to focus on the mission. College was years away, bitter, Hell-spent, brother-less, demon-screwing, pain-beyond-imagination years away. That was a different life, Hell, practically a different person entirely. He wasn't Sam-College Boy-Winchester, or even Dean's Little Sammy, he held characteristics of both but that didn't quite measure up to what he'd become. Samuel Winchester. Demon-blooded. A Hell-survivor. The Devil's own vessel. A hunter...Dean's partner. There was something that he should have realized sooner. Sam had had the naive dream that after a little hunt-and-go, he could go right on back to Jessica. But that life had ended the moment Dean turned up on his door with a cocky smile and a mission.

Sam reached the principal's office and hesitated before he entered.

_"Samuel Winchester...I'm glad you could make it. Please, have a seat." the principal motioned for Sam to sit and he did so with a respectful nod. "Your test scores are exceptional, top of your class, you're on your way to being the valedictorian for your class. Truly excellent work. May I ask what your plans are?" _

_Sam gave a look mingled with sheepish pleasure and determination. "Well...I'd like to start schooling for law soon, I have a test coming up, if I pass that..." _

_"Ah, yes. With scores like yours, I don't imagine that will be a problem." _

_Sam chuckled modestly. "Thank you, sir." _

The door opened and Sam blinked as he found himself staring down at a business-like if slightly frazzled looking woman who eyed him with a lifted brow and a faint frown. "May I help you?"

Sam realized how foolish he'd likely looked, simply standing there lost in thought. "Ah, yes...Agent Owens. FBI." he flashed his badge. "This is unorthodox, I realize, but I need to utiilize one of your labs. It won't take long, there's something I need analyzed."

The woman's look spoke volumes of her disbelief where Sam was concerned and she eyed his badge before he took it away. "The FBI needs one of my labs?"

"There are no forensics labs in this area, unfortunately, and I need results as soon as possible. As I said, it's unorthodox, but necessary."

"You're here about the heart-cases, I suppose?"

Sam supposed that it was naturally of note, a case like that. "I can't discuss all matters related to the case, but yes, those incidents were the cause of my being called here." he tried to keep an official, business-like tone.

The woman didn't seem impressed but she nodded. "I am Emily Palmer, the principal, there is a lab you can use, but I would appreciate it if you leave it in the same condition you find it." she made that clear up front as Sam nodded and followed her. Before long, two flights of stairs and a hallway later, they entered the science lab where a pair of the sorts that Dean would call 'geeks' were hard at work with something.

They glanced up as the pair entered and one of the three students waved enthusiastically. "Hey, Ms. Palmer!" the other students waved beside them, and Sam supposed that the principal was well-liked, or the students were just...brown-nosing. Either way, the principal gave them an actual smile before she led Sam to the back-most portion of the lab-classroom. "This is Agent Owens, he'll be making use of this area for a bit. Please see that he has anything that he needs, if you will."

The boys seemed awed and the one that had spoken originally nodded. "Can do, Ms. Palmer!" The moment that she left, three pairs of eyes turned to Sam who mentally bemoaned the situation. At least he hadn't sent Dean, though, for starters-the other wouldn't likely know the first thing about analyzing as he was about to, and for another, Dean wouldn't have...much patience for the types of boys he was currently stuck with. Overly-friendly people tended to put Dean on edge and on guard.

"So you're really FBI?"

"Can I see your badge?"

"Have you ever killed someone?"

"Dude!" one of the boys hit the other on the arm and spoke in a hushed but all-too-audible whisper. "Don't ask that! It's rude...of course he has!"

Sam realized with dawning irony that once upon a time, somewhere in the shuffle from school to school, guys like these would have likely been the ones that he ended up 'hanging out' with. It took an adult's viewpoint to realize how annoying they really were, but they were kids. They were innocent. They didn't know that the monster in their closet could really reach right out and tear their heart out. It just wasn't their life.

_"Dean..." Seven-year old Sam looked up at his eleven-year old brother with a troubled expression as he tugged his big brother's sleeve. "I think there's a monster in the closet." _

_Dean blinked and then scoffed. "Sam, you're supposed to be asleep..and there's no such thing as monsters." he knew better, but wasn't gonna say so. "Don't be such a baby." _

_"I'm not a baby!" Sam sniffed indignantly and seemed sullen a moment before he shuffled his foot. "But...what if there is?" Sam's hair hid his face, but Dean could tell Sam was actually scared. And he had good reason to be, Sam just didn't know that yet. _

_Dean hesitated a moment before he sighed and put a hand on Sam's shoulder as he led him over to the closet. He opened the door wide as Sam hid partially behind him and he flicked on the light. It was a shabby motel closet, nothing fancy or big. "See? Just a hanger. No monsters." _

_Sam still didn't look convinced so Dean sighed. "Alright. Wait a sec." Sam obediently took a step back to 'wait' as Dean shut the door and braced a chair up against it. "There, now nothing could come out even if it wanted to." _

_"Are you sure?" Sam seemed hopeful._

_Dean smiled faintly as he ruffled Sam's hair before he pushed him to sit beside him on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure, Sammy. 'Sides, if there was a monster, I'd just kick it's butt." _

_"You can't kick a monster's butt, Dean! It's a monster!" Sam protested._

_Dean scoffed and mussed his little brother's hair. "Can too! I'm older! That means I can do anything I hav'to to keep you safe. Duh." _

_Sam seemed to take that comment rather seriously and then he leaned over and hugged Dean around the waist. "Promise?" _

_Dean's expression softened as he wrapped an arm around Sam and used the other to ruffle Sam's hair lightly, affectionately. "Yeah, Sammy, I promise. I'll keep you safe. I'm your big brother, dummy." _

_Sam mumbled, already half-asleep. "You're the dummy...my dummy though." _

_Dean smiled faintly. "That's right, bro. It's you an' me.." Sam was soon sleeping soundly against him and with the long-suffering sigh of an indulgent and secretly pleased older brother...he curled up in bed with Sam beside him in his arms, and the pair of them fell asleep together._

Just a short year later, Sam had found out the truth, about their Dad being a 'hero'. But before that and after, it had been okay. Dean had seen to that, taken the burden on himself. When he'd had Lisa and Ben, for the first time had a real family, he'd thought that maybe Dean could relax for the first time in his life. Not feel like he had to save everyone, do everything...but thanks to Sam, and to Castiel, to the whole damned world...his brother had gotten dragged back in and lost everything. How was that fair? Sam didn't care anymore if he got screwed, he was far past that, but Dean...he deserved to be happy. Sam wanted him to be happy.

"Uh...dude?"

Sam realized that he'd once again lost his train of thought. He seemed to be doing that more frequently ever since...well, perhaps it was sort of a life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing...except that it was happening after the fact. "I need to analyze this sample." he produced a small baggie with the strange skin inside of it. "I'll need a microscope and-"

"Oh, right on!"

"We can totally do that!"

"I'm AJ, this is Conner, and Rex. We're kind of like, the experts. So yeah, we'll take care of that for you, no prob." he assured Sam and before he could really protest, he found himself minus a sample as the boys started in on it.

AJ and Rex fiddled with it while Conner stood beside Sam with a grin. "So really, what's it like, being FBI?" The boys seemed to lack the concept of the idea of FBI being...well, FBI. They were treating Sam like the new kid whose dad was a fireman.

"Job never ends." Sam replied simply, not really in the mood for social bonding or giving the boy more fuel for his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, no, totally. I get that." Conner nodded solemnly, not seeming the least bit deterred.

Twenty-minutes later, AJ and Rex with some help from Conner had decided that they'd effectively analyzed it under microscope and with some sort of chemical.

"Well, Mr. FBI...where exactly did you, uh, find this sample?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that."

"Right..well, uh, you got yourself some grade A...croc-skin."

"...Croc-skin?"

"Yeah, ya know. Croc? Crocodile? Native to Egypt, often confused with alligators although really, they're wayyy different, for example-"

"-You're sure?" Sam interrupted.

"Well, yeah, definitely. It's crocodile skin."

"And you could tell just by looking at it?" Sam wanted to be sure.

Conner spoke up. "I've done a lot of traveling with my folks, and since I've always wanted to be a vet, I always check out the wildlife. I've been to Egypt a couple of times, I did some study on the animals there. That's definitely crocodile. What's weird is that if I didn't know better, I'd say it was old. Like...really old. The texture and layering of that skin is just...I don't know, just old, man."

Sam fingered the skin sample a moment as he considered that before he inclined his head. "Thanks, guys...you, uh, did really well. You're a...service to your country."

The boys stared at him and first, he thought he'd spoken wrongly...until shouts of 'sweet' 'rad' and 'heck, yes!' chorused through the sound of high-fives.

Jeez.

Sam managed to leave the school sans anymore inconvenient flashbacks, and short three overly enthusiastic teens, but what he'd gotten had troubled him. Crocodile skin? Could it be any more random? Last he'd checked, crocodiles weren't exactly roaming the streets-or the sewers, as it were, and furthermore...it wasn't possible for one to just up and rip out a heart. But nothing he'd heard of could come close, not to mention, the boy was under the impression that it was _old_.

Sam withdrew his phone and clicked his brother as the sender. A couple of rings later, he heard Dean's voice on the other end...as well as the loud sound of music, shouting, and something that sounded distinctly like a shrill duck quacking.

"_Yo, Sam. Whad'ja find?"_

"Dean, tell me you're not in a bar. You do understand sundown is less than an hour away?"

"_Hey, where better to find a sinner than a strip bar, right? Lust, sloth, gluttony, greed-" _

"Nice try. Dean, you-"

"_So you gonna keep wasting time lecturing me or tell me what you found, Sam?_" Dean interrupted in a drawl.

Sam sighed and gave in. "Crocodile."

"_'Scuse me?_"

"Crocodile. As in a real, live, possibly very old crocodile."

"_You're telling me a giant lizard is tearing hearts out?_"

"That's what the skin sample was, but-"

"_What the...Sam, Applefield's, there's-_"

"What? Dean? ...Dean!" The line had gone dead. Sam cursed. Applefield's was a bar they'd passed not far off they'd passed coming in. Somehow Sam doubted Dean's surprise and dismay had anything to do with the strippers, and everything to do with something gone wrong.

Couldn't leave his big brother alone for a damned minute.

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**~Several Hours Earlier~**

"Alright. If I was the scum of Earth, where would I party?" Dean mused aloud as he slowly drove his Impala along the street and kept an eye out for any possible miscreants. Some giggling teens. A couple arguing. An old guy talking to...a tree? A man walking a dog. A woman roller-blading. But thus far, no one that really screamed 'hey, tear my heart out!'.

He finally abandoned the idea of driving around aimlessly in favor of parking the Impala in the parking area of a decent-looking park. True, the clean-scene wasn't the most likely place to find the next victim-but he wanted his baby in a safe place. And the park was set pretty square in the middle of everything, so two ghosts with one salt round and all that.

"Jimmy! You're out there again, aren't you? ...Don't lie to me! I told you already...I don't care. Do what you want then!" A pretty woman in her late twenties slammed her phone shut and lowered her head as she sat alone on a park bench.

Dean looked to his left and to his right, but there was no one else really around, and certainly no one paying attention to the 'damsel in distress'. And yeah, he was on a time frame and needed to find the next victim but hey, she was a victim too, right?

Sort of.

"Couldn't help but hear a bit...are you alright, miss?" Dean offered a sympathetic glance.

The woman sniffed and rubbed at her eyes. "I'm fine. It's nothing. Thank you."

Dean paused a moment before he pulled a slightly wadded napkin from a joint they'd eaten at on the way out. "It's not used, I swear. Just a little pocket-damaged." Dean faintly joked as he held out the napkin to the crying woman.

She hesitated and then blew her nose into it before she crumpled it in her hand and finally looked up at Dean. Damn but she was pretty, all blue eyes and soft lips, and that face, hot damn!

That was what he saw at first, and then he saw the pain in her eyes, that look that border-lined determination not to give up and the desire to just...stop. Hell, he'd seen that look in the mirror often enough over the past year, and then some. But moreover, something about her reminded him of Lisa. And that was...unacceptable.

Even so, when she offered him a red-nosed, tear-blotched smile, he couldn't help but smile back a bit even if he didn't feel it.

"Thank you...sorry, it's stupid of me, crying here like this."

"Free country." Dean said with a shrug and she gave a sort of sob-like chuckle before she wiped at her eyes again. "Mind if I ask what's wrong?" he asked as he sat on the very edge of the bench.

The woman hesitated again before she seemed to relax. "Just...troubles with my fiance. Nothing you'd want to hear about."

Dean shrugged. "Everyone can use a shoulder now and then, right? Lay it on me." he offered, a bit surprised at his own generosity, really. Where were his corny jokes? His crappy pickup attempts that wouldn't really be attempts now that he knew that she had a fiance? The awkward silence?

Was he really that...broken?

And since when did being a decent human being mean that he was broken anyway? Talk about being screwed up after all...

"...My fiance, Jimmy...he's...he likes to be gone a lot lately. Drinking. And I think he's..." she looked away. Dean knew what that meant. She thought her future groom was cheating. And probably was too, from the sound of it, the damned moron. Who'd wanna cheat on a catch like this?

_"I just want to go home, to my family." _

Jimmy Novak's voice rang in his head a moment. One of his less-than-heroic ventures had been keeping him around for Castiel's sake. How was it any different, letting Cas ride Jimmy than letting a demon ride a human? But Castiel was-had been-his friend. An angel. Necessary. So the whole poor-Jimmy-trapped-inside-bit...it just hadn't mattered. Some hero he was. Jimmy was the one making the sacrifice, eternity as a puppet to spare his daughter.

But it was stupid to think of it now. The deed was done and now, it wasn't like Cas was around to hear it anyway.

"Engaged to a blind man, huh?"

"E-Excuse me?" The woman stared in confusion.

Dean shot her a half-hearted grin. "Lady, have you looked in a mirror lately? If his eyes are anywhere but on you, he must be blind."

The woman seemed torn between being offended, and being comforted, and settled for mildly amused. "Uh...thanks. I guess."

Dean's grin widened a bit before he tilted his head. "I'm Dean." he held out his hand to shake.

She started to reach her hand for his before she clenched her napkin. "Probably don't want to shake my hand right now, but my name's Janine."

"Pleasure."

"Right.." Janine was still giving Dean a look crossed between wary and comfortable.

"So...Jimmy, he's...out right now?"

"Yeah...and you know what? Tonight's our fourteen month anniversary...I know it's a little silly, celebrating months but...he proposed on our last anniversary and we aren't married yet so..."

Dean understood. Sort of. To her, it was special and momentous and to her fiance, it was probably just a tick mark on the calender.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault, right?" she gave a bittersweet smile and he was reminded of someone else. Leyla. The faithful he'd met what seemed like too many years ago now. She was dead, almost certainly. The Reaper had never gotten a chance to heal her. But she'd given the same little smile, the same long-suffering but determined look.

"...Why do you stay with the guy if he's such a flake?" Again, a bit too blunt perhaps, but Janine answered anyway.

"...He wasn't always this way...he was...different. Sweet. He talked about things like kids and growing old and true love and...I don't know, I just kinda believed him. I guess sometimes, when you love someone-even if they're falling out of your reach, you can't help but want to believe they'll be better...you want to keep them close even when they tear you up inside. That's love, I guess, or family...I don't know. Seems silly now. But even knowing that it's probably...that he's changed so much...I still want to try, I still choose to believe he's still the man I fell in love with."

"Not as silly as you'd think." Dean replied as he let her words sink in.

For a moment, the pair sat in a companionable silence, just staring at the world around them but neither really paying attention to it. Finally she glanced at him and smiled. "Thank you, Dean. You're the angel on my shoulder today, I suppose."

Dean tried not to scoff at the irony and ludicracy of that statement. "Eh. Let's just call it lucky."

"Lucky to meet a crying woman on a bench?" she laughed, and it was a pleasant sound.

"Lucky to meet a beautiful woman whose fiance deserves to have his ass kicked." Dean said bluntly.

Janine grinned a bit despite herself. The man was...engaging. It was hard to stay gloomy around him, even though he seemed rather gloomy himself. "What about you? Something on your mind?"

Dean was a bit taken aback. He honestly couldn't remember the last time somebody out of his small circle had given a rat's ass about how he was feeling or doing. The women he was usually with were a little busy with...less intelligence-requiring activities. And it's not like random dudes just decided to pick his brain.

"Nothing that matters." Dean said dismissively.

Janine gazed at him for a moment, and he was reminded of the way that Lisa looked at him. She could just look past his cocky attitude and see into him, it was some freaky-chick thing on crack. Like she could see into his soul, even better than Cas with all his angel-mojo. Janine's gaze wasn't nearly that intense, but it had the same sort of feel to it. "You're a good guy, Dean. I think I'm the lucky one today."

"Don't count your luck yet. You only say that 'cuz you haven't heard me sing." Dean joked.

"Well, I'll be waiting for the chance then. I'd best be going, but, see you around?"

"Sure." he said, and he could have sworn that she knew perfectly well that he was lying. But she smiled all the same.

Dean rose as she did and was surprised when she gave him a quick hug. "Thank you, Dean. Really."

"Don't mention it. You just take care of yourself, alright? You deserve better."

Janine laughed again, that pleasant sound, and then with a smile and a wave-she was gone, walking away.

And as she did, the brown-hair became black and the dainty body became a little more fit and for a moment, it was Lisa with her long hair, and her bright eyes, and her wicked little smile.

But he blinked, and the vision was gone. It was Janine and it would never be Lisa again. She was just a memory now, a vision. He wasn't apple-pie Dean, never was, really.

Dean was a hunter on his best days and a self-loathing murderer on his worst, so there was that. A Righteous Man who'd fallen.

_"You had such potential..." Alistair said regretfully. _

Dean walked away and didn't look back. He had a victim to find, a hay-needle in a stack of hay-needles, as his brother had once said.

Forty-minutes later, his search had turned up..._ding, ding, ding_..._not a damned thing_!

"This is hopeless." he muttered. Sun-down wasn't too long off, a couple of hours at best.

"Whoo, baby! Let's start the party now!" a black-haired man hollered as he wobbled a bit to a passing woman, apparently less-than-sober.

"Wait until we're inside, cutie." a voice chimed, as the scantily clad woman sauntered past an already-partially inebriated man and they entered a strip bar called...Applefield's?

"The Hell kinda name is that?" Dean muttered. Still...booze, women, general sleeze-activity...it was the best lead he had, if one could call it that, and it seemed pretty busy for such a crappily named joint.

Thirty-minutes, two shots of whiskey, and a tip to a girl named 'Candy' in a candy-cane-themed get-up later...he saw just about every sin you could put a name to, and maybe some you couldn't. But again, no one was exactly wearing a bullseye over their heart, so how the Hell was he going to narrow down his search?

"Howdy, mister. You look lonely." A voice purred by his ear.

"That right?" Dean tilted his head to look up at the cowgirl themed woman before him.

The cowgirl giggled as she straddled his lap. "That's right, but don't worry, you don't have to be lonely."

Dean chuckled despite himself. This was so out of place. Once, he'd have already been teaching the _cowgirl_ a move or two, but now...it was like going through the motions.

"My name's Chastity." she said with a wink.

Dean's partial smile froze on his lips.

_"What the Hell did you do?"_

_"I merely told her that her father leaving was not her fault. He hated his job as a postman." _

_"Dude, this industry runs on absent fathers! Let's get out of here." Dean said, and he pulled Castiel away laughing and even Castiel, despite his confusion, managed a rare, little smile. _

"Yeah, well...tonight, so's mine." Dean muttered as he slipped her a tip and moved her off of him. "Maybe next time?"

The girl shot him a look that suggested that she thought he was some kind of crazy and then sauntered off.

Dean sighed. This whole depression thing was a total cock-block. That and the fact that he was hung up on the woman of his dreams, and a family, a life, that would never-_could never_ be his. Not really. And not anymore.

His gaze lazed about the establishment again, once again, not seeing anything that screamed 'pick me, pick me!', but he did notice something he found a bit odd.

Sunken, bruised-looking eyes, obese, sweat-slicked body, and a weaselly look about him. The creep from the morgue. He had a sour look on his face, like he was disgusted, but he was watching all the same. Did he have some sort of weird, anti-voyeur voyeur fetish? Well, however the dude got his kicks, definitely wasn't Dean's biz.

His phone rang and he clicked it open to hear Sam on the other end. A short conversation later, he found himself trying to piece together what part an alligat-scratch that-_crocodile_ played in all the heart-ripping glory. Last he checked, crocs weren't exactly on the biblical down-low, nor could they smash in a chest cavity to steal a heart, but hey, he'd seen stranger.

Speaking of which.

A greasy-looking man who he'd noted making clumsy, drunken passes at...well, anything that moved, had snatched a wallet from a drunken, lust-sick moron's pocket. And from the ease at which he handled things, Dean guessed that he'd taken more than one already. _Thou shalt not steal_. One of Heaven's big 'no no's'.

He watched the man stumbled into a table and curse, and he was pretty sure the lord's name and 'damnit' found their way into the same sentence. Thievery and holy-name calling. Two down. It was the best lead he had to go on.

The man walked out the door and Dean took note of the fact that a tall, bald-headed man followed after him.

"What the...Sam, Applefield's, there's a pretty likely victim-in-waiting-" the line-dead signal reached his ears and he pulled his phone away with a frown to dial Sam back as he started to follow the pair of men out but all that he got was a a disconnect message. "The Hell..?" Well, fine, freak-phone disconnect, no worries. Sam had gotten the pertinent part of the message, he hoped, and in the meanwhile he'd see about the task at hand.

"Steal my wallet, huh, you little scum bag?" the bald-man shoved the greasy man against a wall before he kneed him in the stomach. "I'll teach you-"

"Whoa there, fella. Play nice with your friends, or you won't have any." Dean mocked a bit.

The bald-headed man whirled around. "Stay out of this, sleeze. It's not your business."

"Yeah, well maybe I'm making it my business."

"Do you have any idea who you're messing with?"

"Do you?"

The man's look was venom, whereas Dean simply gazed at the man smugly. "I'll kill you..."

"Yeah, yeah, step in line." Dean drawled.

The greasy man started to edge away and both men chimed in unison.

"Don't move!"

Dean and the bald-man turned to regard each other, and when the man lunged, Dean side-stepped him easily before delivering a taunting kick to his back that sent the man stumbling to the ground. "Trust me. Don't get up."

The man did so anyway and he charged Dean again. This time, he delivered a painful punch to the face before he delivered a stomach-crushing blow and let the man drop before he gave him a sharp blow to the head to keep him knocked out awhile. As he surveyed his work, he muttered. "Told you not to get up."

The greasy man started to edge away again and Dean shook his head as he came before the other and put a hand on one side of the wall beside the man's head. "You and I need to have a little talk." Behind him, the sun was nearly set in the sky.

"A-About what? I didn't do it! Whatever it is! She said she was twenty! I didn't steal it! The fire-definitely not me. The-"

"Listen up." Dean's voice snapped the man to attention. "I don't care about your laundry list of crap. I think you might be in danger tonight and for no logical reason, I'm going to save your greasy ass. So it's gonna work like this, I'll-"

The man suddenly jerked his hand and Dean didn't realize he'd been slashed in the side with a knife until he felt the pain and the warm trickle of blood beneath his shirt. "Sonuvabitch!" The greasy man had run like a bat out of Hell and Dean cursed again before he took off after him. The wound wasn't deep, more blood than was probably merited, but he'd live.

The greasy man? That was another story.

"Your funeral, dude!" Dean called out after the man as he chased him. The little prick was fast though, and he knew his way around better than Dean. The sun slowly set into the sky and left vague darkness. How much time did that give him?

Not enough.

Back at the bar, Sam found no sign of his brother and attempts to call him resulted in him getting the voicemail. So where the Hell had he gone? Worry flared within him...the way he'd cut off, what if something had happened? Sam stepped outside in time to hear a faint shout of '_your funeral, dude_', and he could make out Dean's retreating form down the street. "Dean! Dean!" The other didn't hear him and rounded a corner out of Sam's sight. He was not unlike his big brother as he cursed and then took off running after him.

Alright. Thing about flesh wounds? They can be pretty minor, but when you start pounding the pavement with a bleeding stomach-it doesn't tend to help the situation. Dean had torn the skin open a bit more and his shirt and upper area of his pants were now sticky and wet with his blood. There was a pounding in his flesh and he was starting to wonder whether he oughten just wring the little prick's neck.

Speaking of... "Damnit." he'd lost him. Dean clutched his side and looked around. Where had he-

A shout filled the air as a man screamed and he cursed as he darted off in that direction. If he'd been too late-

-Just a bit further down the street was another damned alley and he froze as he saw what was happening inside.

The bruise-eyed morgue attendant from before had his arm dug deep into a man's chest cavity before, in a flurry of blood, he ripped the man's heart out.

Dean wasn't squeamish, generally, but the sight of that nearly made him retch. And as he looked closer, he took note of the fact that there were patches of green...crocodile skin all over the attendant and in various places it appeared that his...human skin was peeling off.

The morgue attendant didn't seem to notice Dean as he rammed the heart into his mouth and stretched his mouth and throat unnaturally to take in the heart before he bent down to...kiss the man?

Dean watched in confusion and horror, stunned into watching and not reacting to protect the man because, well...he was already dead.

Something blueish seeped from the man's mouth and into the morgue attendants as he pulled away, and Dean had no idea how the Hell he could see it-but he knew what it was.

A soul. He was eating the man's soul.

"Hey!"

The morgue attendant stiffened and gave a long slurp to the last of the soul before he turned and cast pure-black eyes on Dean.

"What the-" Well was it a demon then?

The whatever-it-was rose and Dean watched it flexed a blood, gnarled hand and he reacted quickly as he drew his gun and shot. He felt some measure of triumph as his bullet pierced it, right up until the thing looked down at the wound blankly before it returned it's gaze to Dean...and said. "Fresh...meat.."

Dean's eyes widened. "Crap." Then he took off at a run, what else could he do? And ran right into his little brother.

"Dean! Are you-"

"Run, Sam!" Dean grabbed his brother's arm and jerked him away as stumbled to his feet and tugged him along.

"What-" The sight of the bloody-crocodile-esque man after them spurred him into gear. "That's him!"

"Ya think?" Dean shouted as he ran alongside his brother and fought against the pain in his side. "Did you find out how to kill it?" he shouted.

"I don't even know what _it_ is...well, I have a theory but-"

"Screw theory! We need to kill the damned thing-"

Bruised eyes gazed at them as they found themselves forced to come to a stop, facing the creature dead ahead.

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**Kind of a lame stop, I know, I woke up early to finish but fell back asleep-ish so I had to rush the end a bit. XD Long chapter though! Hopefully enjoyable! And believable! And such! XD~ **


	6. The Crooked Smile of a Jackal

**BWAH! So I have been informed that Sam goes all patricidal on Bobby. Had I known, I would have put some more tense-ness in their relationship. XD Until September 13 when I get the DVD, my working knowledge of S6 is based on what I've read, heard, and little Dean/Cas clips I snuck and watched. XD Which is to say...it's not going to be as super-shnazzy as when I've seen everything. I'm also trying to avoid Cas' POV right now until the S7 first ep-when we hopefully get an inkling of what's going on. So far, we only know that Cas says he's god, tells them to flee or die, and brags about his mercy. And there's conflicting cast interviews that suggest Cas is Cas but crazy, or that Cas is possessed by a god (thing?). And that Sam gets neck-choked on a ceiling, but that's not Cas, so I digress! XD Bear with me folks! And thanks for favoriting and reading and such! It really brightens my existence! By the by, there's gonna be a little boy in this chap that I should have had doing creeper-scenes earlier, but it doesn't change things, really. Just would have lent itself to the usual Supernatural factor. XD~ By the way, to any who note me calling Anubis a 'demigod' it's not in the sense of an actual halfling demigod, but in the sense of him being demi-god of the dead next to Osiris. To those of you who wouldn't have noted...just forget I mentioned it. XD**

**P.S. I hate [writing] fight scenes, and will readily admit that they are not my forte. That is all. XD Yay for a long chapter though! XD~  
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"Any ideas? Cause I'm out." Dean wheezed as he ran alongside his brother, the pain in his side now far and above a burning sensation. They'd been cornered several times already by that croc-man thing and while Dean had the suspicion that it could have caught up to them in earnest by now, it hadn't. But it wasn't letting them get away either and attempts to shoot it had no effect.

Sam finally took note of his side and his face scrunched up with worry. "Dean, you're-"

"Shaddup." Dean gritted his teeth as they rounded a corner and took a breather. The croc-man hadn't appeared yet, but knowing their luck, that wouldn't last long. He hazarded a peek at his cut. What had started out as a painful but simple slit in the side had developed into an angry, chaffed wound. "Theory. Spit it out."

"Well, it's...complicated-"

"_Un_complicate it." Dean hissed, more from pain and struggling to catch his breath than actual irritation, not that there wasn't a spot of that as well.

"Long story short-"

"Fresh...meat." There went their 'luck'. The croc-man stood, staring at them with it's blank, beady eyes.

"Sonuva-Sam!"

This time, rather than simply follow, the croc-man lunged for Sam and Dean jerked forward in time to grab his brother by the arm and haul him away as they broke into another run.

"We can't keep this up forever." Sam noted tersely..

"Ya think, Sherlock?" Dean growled before he stumbled and nearly lost his balance as he came to a near dead stop in front of a small boy.

Scrawny, hazelnut skin, kohl-rimmed eyes, and somewhat messy black hair. He looked like something off of one of those little Egyptian stick-figure pictures, sans the stick-figure.

Dean and Sam stared down at the boy a brief moment in surprise before instinct kicked in. "Kid, listen-"

"Dean! It's gone!"

"Say what?" Dean looked back and then around, but there was no croc-man. He felt a tug at his sleeve and looked down to see the boy staring silently up at him, his black-eyes eerily intent. Creepy eye-sex, as he liked to call it, which meant that this kid wasn't exactly normal. If the fact that he was only wearing a loincloth-looking item wasn't enough of an indication.

The boy then moved ahead and made a motion beckoning them to follow...back in the direction that they'd come.

"I think he wants us to follow him." Dean noted, and a _thank you, Captain Obvious_ went unspoken by Sam.

"Yeah, and? Are we in the habit of following random little kids now?"

Dean shot him a sour look before his attention turned to the boy ahead of them, beckoning again. There was a snarling noise and he whirled around to find the croc-man behind them, and he looked _pissed_.

"Yup. New habit. Follow the loincloth." Dean announced as he grabbed a fistful of Sam's shirt and jerked him around as they took off after the kid. Rubber pounded pavement yet again as they ran and followed after the boy, if only for lack of other options. Who led the right back to the murder scene.

"Great. We're back where we started." It was Sam's turn to hiss as he glanced to his brother, though his expression softened with worry as he noted his brother clutching his wound. His gaze then slid to the boy who was watching them silently.

Once again, the croc-man was gone and Dean made his way into the little alley and crouched down beside the dead man. Given the entry of the wound, blood was mostly on the man and his clothes, hardly any elsewhere. It looked clean, until you noted the gaping hole in the man's chest. Dean peered down at the man and realized with a start that it wasn't even the greasy man, in fact, it appeared to be the man hooting at one of the dancers before he'd entered the bar. He poked around very lightly, so as not to leave traces, until he came to the man's wallet. As he picked that up, a picture fell out and he examined it a moment before he muttered. "Shit..."

"Dean?"

"...It's nothing." Dean slid the picture back into the wallet before he glanced at the man's I.D. and then slid the wallet back inside. "Wasn't the guy I was tailing." he amended, when he noted his brother's gaze on him. "Anyway, your theory?"

"...Long story short, there's an Egyptian ritual known as the Judgment of the Dead, or the Weighing of the Heart...basically the recently deceased get their heart measured against the feather of Ma'at, goddess of truth. If it's heavier and weighed down with sin, then a crocodile deity called Ammut devours their soul. If it's lighter, they go on to the Field of Reeds, the Egyptian version of paradise. The whole ceremony is overlooked by the demi-god of the dead, Anubis, and recorded by the scribe-god Thoth."

"...So, skipping the useless textbook crap. We got a hungry croc-god with a craving for sinner's hearts?"

"That's the theory, but-" Sam was stopped mid-sentence as something was shoved in front of him by the boy who held out a feather with an expectant look.

Sam exchanged a glance with his brother before he took the the feather and spotted the little note attached. "Idolatry."

Dean didn't reply. So the prick was worshipping idols, huh? Too bad he'd missed the only one that mattered...

"I don't...what?"

"Huh?" Dean looked over at his brother, assuming that he was being spoken to until he noted the boy as he took Sam's wrist and dipped the edge of the feather into the dead man's blood.

Sam jerked his hand back, but the feather was already covered in said blood. The boy then mimed taking the feather and plunging it into his chest before he closed his eyes and slumped as though dead.

"Dean...I think he's...trying to tell us how to kill that croc-thing." The boy nodded, but Dean scoffed.

"What, so that's a magic feather now? Hate to tell ya, but the tip of that thing wouldn't get through a piece of bread."

The boy eyed Dean for a moment, a very adult, very _honestly, kid..._ expression before he patted his thigh where Dean had a small knife. He mimed tying the feather to the knife, and then made a stabbing motion. The boy produced a string of unknown origin, but Dean suspected it to have come from the trash. Didn't matter, as long as he could keep it held together with his hand anyway.

"Tie a feather to a knife and stab a freaky-ass croc-dude. Sounds reasonable. Are we taking this kid's word-er-...hand gestures on this?"

"You got a better idea?"

""No. Doesn't mean I like this one." Dean muttered as he withdrew his knife anyway and the boy watched him with his black-eyes intent as Dean began tying it up. "Feather-knife dipped in a dead-man's blood. This better work." he shot a glance to the boy, only to be startled as he realized that the boy was gone.

And the croc-thing was back.

Dean and Sam rose from beside the victim's body and stared at the creature blocking their escape. Things were happening quickly, too quickly, in Sam's opinion. One minute they'd been searching for the thing, then it had chased them and never caught them, and then some boy appeared to hand them a fix-it and disappeared? Something reeked in the situation, but he couldn't quite pin it.

"Fresh meat."

"Yeah, we heard you the first time, tubby. You want a piece of this sweet ass? Step in line." Dean taunted.

"Dean." Sam's voice was a low warning, Dean was in no condition to be reckless, least of all with some part-god whatever-the-Hell it was before them.

"C'mon, here croc-ey, c'mere." Dean continued his taunts, heedless of his brother. The thing had to come forward after all, and into his waiting magic-feather-knife.

He thought that right up until the point the creature moved faster than he could see, and wound up behind him.

"Fresh meat." The thing spared no time in jerking it's head forward to take a bite out of Dean's shoulder, and he let out a shout of pain before he whirled around and slashed at the thing, but it had already moved away again.

"Dean! Are you alright?"

Dean clutched his bleeding shoulder with an irritated expression, it wasn't a deep bite, but like his side-wound it had potential to be a problem. "I just got a bite taken out of me by the Blob. What do you think?" he growled as he moved in between Sam and the croc-thing and brandished his knife.

The croc-thing licked it's now bloodied-lips. "Fresh-"

"I heard you the first time, you damned lizard!"

The croc-thing's tongue stopped mid-lick before it paused and said slowly. "Dean Winchester. Idolatry. Covetousness. Blasphemy. Dishonor. Thievery. Dishonesty. Murder."

"So what, I'm the new Miss America?" Dean drawled.

"Your heart is full of sin. You will die." The croc-thing said simply before it lunged for Dean.

Dean shoved Sam aside before he aimed his blade for the thing's 'heart'. He hadn't been told to, but better safe than sorry.

The thing lumbered and he assumed that it would come right into his knfie, but it made a sharp swerve at an unnatural angle to bend below his knife and ram a claw-like hand into his wound.

"F-Fuck!" Dean hissed in pain as he stumbled back. His brother called his name but his focus was on the creature before him and the pain in his side that he doubted could get any worse at this point. And by now, he'd lost a fair share of blood and then some. But he could live with that, he could work under those conditions. Not the first damned time, right?

"Hey, scaly! This way!" Sam called and the thing whirled around to eye Sam.

"Thievery. Dishonesty. Covetousness. Blasphemy. Murder." it intoned as it took a step towards the younger Winchester.

"Ha! I broke one more than you did." Dean managed to tease through gritted teeth and circle around the croc who began watching him again. There wasn't a clear opening.

"Really, Dean?"

"Well I did."

The croc-thing looked between the two of them as though puzzled a moment. And perhaps it would be strange to one that didn't know the Winchesters, to see them sharing a joke at what most would consider their imminent demise.

Sam had his own gun and aimed a shot at the croc's head, but while the bullet sunk in, the creature seemed unfazed and made a lunge for him that he narrowly dodged by jerking sideways. It rose again and moved faster, in time to take advantage of Sam's unbalance and tackle him. The creature opened it's mouth wide to take a bite out of Sam when Dean tackled it from the side and sent it to the ground. Dean's knife-wielding hand edged for the thing's heart, held at bay in the thing's grasp.

"Little help, here?" Dean muttered, again through gritted teeth as he lifted his fist and slammed it into the croc's face in an attempt to distract it and get his hand free. But instead, he found himself shoved off as the thing climbed on top of him and made to bite him.

Sam, at that point desperate, grabbed the nearest 'weapon' a large metal rod from behind a trash can and slammed it against the head of the thing, hard enough to shove it off of Dean, but the thing wasn't pleased.

"Meat." it wheezed through a mouthful of bloody teeth. It could keep the body animated, but not impervious to wounds. And it seemed to be growing annoyed, if it's quicker, more rash movements were any indication. The croc lunged for Sam yet again and he bashed it with the rod and watched it stumble back. "Dean!"

Dean replied with action as he skirted around to the front of the creature and aimed again for it's heart.

And this time, the knife went in.

The croc gave a jarring, screeching sound as light began to emanate from it's center not unlike when a demon or angel passed. And then the light exploded from it's inside as the now deceased body slumped to the ground. Dean stared down at it a moment before he shot a grin back at his brother.

"Well, that was eas-"

A large shape pinned Dean down and he felt warm saliva leak onto his face. A giant crocodile-like creature snapped it's jaw and made to bite Dean's head, until a quick thrust and a flash of metal sent the rod in it's mouth and wrenched it's head aside.

Dean rolled and then scrambled up. "Magic-feather my ass! It's still alive!" he clutched his side and took a somewhat wobbily step back as Sam braced his shoulder in concern.

"Maybe if you stabbed it again?" Sam wasn't sure what else they could do.

"Yeah, I'll get right on that." Dean ground out. "If it didn't kill it the first time-"

"The purpose was not to kill, but to free it's form for capture, and thus release my master." an almost cheery but business-like voice chipped in from beside Dean and he was startled to find a slender, dark-skinned man with largely kohl-rimmed eyes standing beside him. "I will take care of the rest." he bowed to Dean and Sam before he strode over to the crocodile, who seemed suddenly afraid and tried to jerk away.

"Ammut, you will return to the Netherworld at once." The man instructed. "This game is at an end."

Ammut bared it's teeth even as the man pulled a staff in the shape of a cane from his waist-band and slammed it to the ground where a crack formed as the nearby area shook slightly, and opened to form a hole that crackled with a black energy.

The man withdrew a dagger and slit his palm, and as his blood trickled he hurled it at Ammut, only a few drops were needed. "By the grace of the almighty jackal, I banish you! Return from whence you came! You are bidden by the jackal's hand, be gone!"

Ammut gave another of his shrieks, but some force seemed to be drawing him into the hole before him and with a last cry, his massive form disappeared into the hole which closed after him and left the surrounding area undisturbed.

The man had cropped black hair and deep brown eyes flecked with specks of gold. He turned to face the Winchesters with a friendly smile. "Your assistance was greatly appreciated."

"Whoa, assistance? You wanna explain that?" Dean snapped. He was bleeding, cranky, and confused, not a winning combination.

The man's expression was patience. "I am Sahib, servant of the almighty jackal. That creature was Ammut, he escaped his prison in the Netherworld and began serving a purpose that is not yet fully known. As I am given to understand it, he was acting in accordance to Western practice. He was untouchable while trapped in that human form, and as long as he was bound, my master was as well."

"Master?" this time, it was Sam who spoke.

Sahib lifted a brow. "As I said, I serve the Jackal."

"Anubis?"

"It is not for me to speak his name, or so poorly," Sahid's lips quirked in something like amusement and indulgence, "But yes."

"Is anyone else lost here?" Dean said and he cursed when his knees buckled a bit and he crouched down.

"Dean." Sam bent down and gingerly pressed a hand against Dean's side, and his older brother winced, they interacted but both kept an eye on Sahid. "Is it just your side and shoulder?"

"_Just_? That's not enough?" Dean started to chuckle wryly through a wince of pain he heard the shuffling of feet and looked up to see the boy from before. "Great, Damien returns*."

The boy lifted a faint brow before he set his hand against Dean's head and a feeling of warmth flooded through him. When it faded, he found his wounds had healed completely.

"What the...?"

"My master favors you." Sahib said with a light smile.

"Master. Then...he's?" Sam was aghast.

The boy lifted his gaze to Sam and his eyes twinkled with something like mischief and merriment.

"He is, bound to that form by whatever force bound Ammut to that mortal. It dampened his powers and robbed him of his voice." Sahib said, and there was a flicker of displeasure in his tone, he was protective of his master, after all.

Dean's eyes fell on the boy. "So you're a god, huh? Little short, aren'tcha?" he recalled the meeting with the gods previously, and still had a severe distaste for them.

The boy didn't reply, but his lips quirked with amusement and when he ruffled Dean's hair suddenly, Dean jerked back in surprise and a bit of embarrassment.

"Freaky ass kid." Dean muttered.

The boy, apparently Anubis, only smiled in reply before he glanced around and picked up the feather-bound knife used on Ammut. He held it out to Dean in silence and Dean stared down at it with a frown.

"Ammut's banishment restored some of my master's powers, but in order to be freed, he requires that you release him as you released Ammut."

"Let me get this straight. You want me to stab the kid?" Dean processed that with a mixture of irritation and incredulity.

"I wish for you to release my master, yes." Sahib inclined his head. "You owe us no favors, but you have involved yourself in the matter...so if you would see it through to it's conclusion..."

"You're right. I don't owe you guys squat. Last time I checked, you gods are a bunch of people-munching asswipes. So, sorry, not exactly looking to buy into your crap."

"Not all gods are the same." Sahib countered.

"Not in my experience."

Sahib didn't seem to have a reply to that, nor did Sam offer anything. And a tense moment passed before Anubis set the knife down gently. He offered Dean a little smile and set a hand on Dean's shoulder, and squeezed it lightly before he turned away and moved to return to Sahib's side.

Dean watched, taken aback. It was over, just like that? "What's...going to happen to him? You can't just...stab him yourself?"

"Unfortunately, since the curse exists in this reality, someone of this plane must deal the blow. It applied to Ammut as well, and since you broke the tie with Ammut, it would then be you who must break the tie on Anubis."

Dean didn't really get all that crap about reality and planes, but apparently this was another Dean-Only-Mission. "So if I don't break the, uh, tie?"

"I am confident that we will find out what caused this rift, and rectify it as soon as we are able. Until then, my master will be...stuck in this form, and bound to this plane." Sahib said, and Anubis stood silently at his side.

Dean looked to Sam, and one look told him where the other's thoughts lay. Sam wasn't exactly the soft-hearted one anymore, but he could tell from Sam's faintly sympathetic expression that he was leaning towards Anubis on this one. Possibly, it had to do with his geek-boy fascinations, but still...

"Son of a bitch. I'm gettin' really tired of doin' your dirty work. You'd think a god would be a little more, I dunno, god-like?" Dean complained, meaning the dirty work of all the ethereal beings who enlisted him, as he grabbed the knife and rose to step towards Anubis.

Anubis eyed him and shared a glance with Sahib before he stepped forward and stood gazing up at Dean calmly.

Dean clenched the knife in his hand and as he stared down at the boy, he noted for the first time his unusual golden eyes. Or maybe they'd become golden? Something about those eyes reminded him of Castiel, the way the other looked at him like he could read inside of Dean's soul but it was different. Castiel seemed puzzled by Dean, always surprised, but Anubis' gaze was piercing and...accepting. Like he knew everything and it was okay. Sort of like how a real god was supposed to be, one that actually gave a damn and didn't see people as snacks, one that listened to prayers and didn't let children see their mother's burnt on a ceiling. So as he stared down at the other, he found himself hesitant.

A slim hand found it's way to Dean's wrist and Anubis gave it a comforting squeeze and he tilted his head with a reassuring smile before he lowered his hand.

Dean slid his gaze to Sam and the younger Winchester gave a slight nod, but he didn't look all too sure himself before Dean tilted his gaze back and plunged the dagger into the boy's chest.

A bright light emerged within him and this time, it didn't stay relagated to the body but expanded till it was almost blinding and he had to close his eyes against the radiance.

When it cleared, he found himself sitting on his ass with every hair on his body at attention. "The Hell...?" he muttered. He winced and rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, and what he saw made him scramble to his feet and back away, towards Sam protectively, in surprise.

Clad in a golden skirt and a pair of simple sandals was a man, lighter in skin than Sahib with a bare torso and golden arm bands adorning him. He had a large cane-line staff, and the feature that most surprised Dean was his head. It was a jackal's head.

The head didn't move and golden eyes peered at Dean almost curiously before the man lifted a hand. He towered over Dean, unnaturally tall as he lifted his hand over his face and the 'mask' became a human visage. A man with black-hair tied at the nape of his neck, and piercing golden eyes. "Don't be frightened." he said, his voice a low rumble, and oddly pleasant-at odds with his somewhat imposing appearance. "Thank you, Dean, and Sam."

"You're Anubis?" Sam finally spoke.

Anubis smiled slightly and tilted his head in acknowledgment. "As we have established." There was no sarcasm, only amusement, and Sam seemed a bit embarrassed. But Dean had been right, there was a certain level of 'geek-boy' tendency involved. Ancient lore, Egyptian in particular, was one his more favorite fields of historical study.

"For a god of death, you smile an awful damned lot." Dean noted, still clearly uneasy.

At that, Anubis' smile widened into a faint grin. "To those whom I favor. You would not wish to see my frown." There was something ominous in that despite his kind demeanor.

"Right...we done here, then? That croc-thing, it's over?"

Anubis' amusement faded as he became more serious. "Ammut has been returned to the Netherworld."

"The what now?"

"Another plane of existence, it matters little. I wish to warn you, Dean Winchester. This newly risen god-child, Castiel, he has threatened the balance of things gravely and given rise to forces older than himself."

"Forces?" Sam queried, while Dean just looked irked by the mention of Castiel's name.

"This is difficult to explain and there is much that I cannot. Castiel attempted to balance himself with the demon Crowley, but this is not correct. Even I know little else. I can with certainty only that whatever power bound me was nothing I have come across before."

"Balance himself?" Dean was trying to keep up, but this was news to him.

"Castiel has named himself god, as you would understand it, there must therefore be a devil to oppose him. A dark to his light. A death to his life. It is balance. But their existence is unnatural, not the order of things, and the false balance has disrupted things."

"What are you saying?" and this from Sam.

"Their shared existence threatens the sanctity of all worlds. It is as though the world were split in two, one side of fire and one of earth, but separated from each other, from destruction. The existence of Castiel and Crowley would be...giving the fire a means to engulf the earth, and all would be destroyed."

"So how do we stop it?" Dean asked.

Anubis shook his head. "A fire that threatens to burn all in it's path, how would you stop it, but by extinguishing it?"

"You mean killing Cas and Crowley."

Anubis didn't reply with words, but there was a more grim twist to his lips as he moved closer to Dean and slid out a hand. "You saved me, though you did not have to. You will always have my favor." he murmured as he moved his hand to Dean's and pressed something into it before he moved to Sam and smiled softly, an almost fatherly expression on his face before he leaned in close to Sam and spoke into his ear the side opposite of Dean.

"You are not abandoned as you believe. Your brother is not the only light in this world, it is mirrored within you, and your darkness within him. You will guide each other thus." he said before he slipped something into Sam's hand as well and then stepped back.

"I must leave now, I have long overstayed. But I thank you both, as my consort does also. You may keep her feather, you will find it of use, I believe." Anubis offered a wry smile before he inclined his head and simply disappeared.

Sam's brow furrowed before he looked down and found a thin, golden wristband engraved with a symbol he recognized as the Eye of Horus. Horus, a god of Egypt, his eye was a mystic symbol and one that at the very least was supposed to grant protection. It seemed odd that Anubis would give him the symbol for another god, but there had to be a reason. And as for the feather and his consort, did he mean that it was a true feather of the goddess?

Dean had time to briefly wonder why it was that holy beings gave such crappy goodbyes when Sahib bowed and then vanished as well, and he looked down at the token in his hand.

"No way..."

"Dean?"

Dean stared down at whatever was in his palm for a long moment before he gave a mirthless chuckle and held something up for Sam to see. His amulet, the one that he'd thrown away after Castiel had declared it 'useless', and he'd seen that Sam's Heaven was his Hell.

For a moment, silence stretched on between the brothers. Both were reeling from their pain, both were trying to digest the strange case and information they'd received, from an equally strange messenger, but even so...that one little trinket was enough to distract them. It symbolized a deep bond between them, a crucial moment in their lives compounded upon by Sam's unwitting initation into the hunter life through the pulling of the proverbial curtains. Dean hadn't been denying their brotherhood when he'd tossed it, but he'd made his feelings of betrayal and his lack of desire to try to fuel what seemed to be a one-sided relationship clear when he had.

"Y'know somethin'?" Dean said as he slipped the amulet around his neck. "Guess not every god is a dick after all."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that." Sam murmured, and honestly, he was a bit surprised by the rush of emotion he felt as he saw Dean accept the necklace and wear it again.

"Yeah, well...first time for everything." Dean said before he tilted his gaze back down to the dead man. "Feel's nice."

"What does?"

"Having this back. Felt kinda naked without it." Which was as close to an 'I'm sorry, I've missed this and treasure it, and I love you, bro', as Sam was likely to get.

So Sam exhaled in a sort of chuckle and set his hand on Dean's shoulder with a silent squeeze and the pair shared a moment of brotherly comfort. The whole world was spiraling into the next possible apocalypse, but they still had time for this. For each other.

...

Dean slipped a knife into his pocket and slipped his jacket back on. Sam emerged from the bathroom to watch him with a frown. "Dean?"

"Going out for a bit. I'll be back quick. Just stay inside and keep things locked up, you know the drill."

"That hasn't been the drill since I was twelve."

"Yeah, well. Same rules apply."

Sam frowned at that. They'd shared a companionable silence in the Impala on the way back to the motel, right up until Dean's sudden, prickly attitude and his apparent desire to go out somewhere. "What, you meet a girl or something?"

"Yeah, Sam. I met a girl. Happy? Guy saves the world a few times, you'd think he could at least get laid in peace." Dean muttered.

But Sam knew that Dean was lying, and Dean had to know that Sam knew. Dean wouldn't be acting like this when he was about to get laid and he'd never made an issue. If he was going out, it was almost a joke between them to make sure that Sam knew. "Okay, Dean. Well. Have fun with that."

"You bet." Dean said with a note of sarcasm as he made his way to the door. Just before he left, he glanced back at Sam and there was a faint hint of hesitation to his expression that he covered quickly. "Just stay put, I mean it. Call me if anything comes up."

"...Dean, why-"

The door closed as Dean exited, and he paused a moment to glance at the door. He didn't want to leave Sam alone, but he needed to clear his head and more importantly, to take care of something. It wasn't his style, Hell, it was practically a whole new behavior for him altogether. But if he cared to look that deeply, maybe he could reason it out as being because she'd reminded him of Lisa. Because she'd looked at him and seen a decent man, and when was the last time he'd had a chick really give a damn, other than the obvious?

Maybe he was just damned tired of all the repeated miserable mistakes, the pain.

But either way, it was just before eleven when the doorbell on 46511 E. Caregrove Lane was rung and a bouquet of roses with a few flowers mixed in was left on the doorstep. It was the same address that had been on the I.D. of the dead man, James Halston. The man who had been in the picture with a certain woman.

Janine Walters answered the door with an anxious expression and saw no one, but as she looked down, she noted a bouquet of flowers and a little note.

_Happy anniversary, Janie. Love, Jimmy._

The woman stared down at the bouquet and the note. Jimmy hadn't called her 'Janie' in a couple of months at least, things had been strained, she knew he'd spent their fourteen month anniversary at a bar. But...he'd sent her flowers and a note. So he hadn't forgotten? Unsure of whether to be more upset with him, or comforted, she simply smiled through her soon watering-eyes as she cradled the flowers and with a glance around, headed back inside.

From across the street and back a bit, a black Impala sat silently as the driver watched the proceedings. Come tomorrow, she'd find out that her fiance had died-brutally no less. Another victim, through a victim that Dean had failed to save. In a way, it was almost mocking to get her hopes up, to bring her the flowers when Jimmy would never be coming home. But he had to, he had to give her something, he had to quell the nagging feeling in his gut. And maybe James' memory didn't deserve that final, 'loving' gesture. But that woman deserved comfort, however small.

The key turned in the ignition as the Impala purred to life. Home. What the Hell was home?

_"You want the crusts cut off?" Mary Winchester asked with a smile._

_"Ya idjit!" Bobby shouted, exasperated and fond._

_"Well, we do share a more profound bond." Castiel said innocently._

_"You're still my big brother..." Sam admitted softly._

_"I love you, Dean." Lisa said as she smiled up at him._

_"I'm proud of you." John murmured. _

Dean didn't have a place to call home, but he had people who made places feel like home, if that made any sense. Very few. And it was his job to protect them, Sammy especially, but more than that...Bobby, Castiel, Lisa, Ben...

That was all the reason to keep fighting that he needed, no matter what.

...

The door was closed and Sam was left alone, confused, irritated, and admittedly a bit hurt. Dean's behavior at Singer Salvage had been...somewhat patronizing, but in a comforting way. He'd been...gentler, he'd been attentive, and in his own snarky way, caring. Like when he was younger. Whenever Sam got sick or hurt, it was Dean who tended him, and cared for him, and nursed him back to health. He'd done everything for Sam, really, and occasionally he'd gotten to return the favor. But right now? He got the same sense of patronization in a very different way. 'Stay put, you know the drill' And lying? ' Did he think that Sam was just going to fall apart any minute? What was so important that he couldn't take Sam along?

"Of course he does. He lied to you." a voice taunted in his ear with false sympathy. "He can't trust you, you're a liability. And if it weren't for me, you'd be in a puddle on the floor, screaming for your mommy."

"He trusts me." Sam said firmly, but not with complete certainty. After all that he had done without a soul, after what he'd done to their family; to Bobby, to Dean...

"Trusts you? You chose a hot piece of demon tail over your own brother while guzzling down the good stuff. You didn't save him from Hell, frigging winged-asses did. He's always saving you, Sammy-boy, but what are you doing for him? Stealing away his apple-pie? If you couldn't go back to your sweet, college-life, then he couldn't have one either, right?'

"No! I-"

"Sammy..." an hand slid onto his shoulder as someone whispered by his ear. "You can lie to yourself, but not to me."

Sam shrugged him off and turned with an angry glare. "Get out of here. You're not even real!"

"Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter? If brother dearest knew you'd been talking to the devil on your shoulder, what would he think? I bet he'd be heartbroken all over again." the man tapped a finger on his chin thoughtfully.

"I'll find a spell. I'll get rid of you." Sam spat.

"Ah, but if you do that, then who's going to keep you safe from yourself? I'm the only thin line to sanity you got left, and boy, I ain't much." the man chuckled.

"I can handle it." Sam said vehemently.

"Oh? Well, then, be my guest." The man disappeared as Sam fell to the floor and clutched his head in agony as memories assailed him anew. He couldn't help it, they tormented his nightmares and in his waking hours, they lay just beneath the surface, a constant pain and reminder. But the figment helped ease them, helped to keep him distracted and focus his mental issues elsewhere.

Sam moaned and clenched his eyes tightly as memories of the Hell-cage flooded his mind. It was too much. He couldn't take it. Had to escape. Anything. Something. A desperate need for his brother came over him, he wanted him, wanted to be in his warmth, wanted that familiar strength. "H-Help me.." it was a cry of despair but there was only one around to answer it.

"Sure thing, Sammy-boy." an arm gripped Sam's shoulder and pulled him up before it caressed his face and then brought the boy close. Sam shuddered and convulsed mildly in his grasp, trying mildly to pull away but too disturbed, too weak. "Better now?"

"Go to Hell." Sam whispered through his trembling as the memories finally ebbed, dulled somewhat by the other's presence, not the prominent terrors that they were before. "I'll still...find a way to kill you."

"I thought you said that I wasn't real?"

"I'll kill you anyway." Sam said firmly before he jerked away and stumbled to his bed. "My brother trusts me. He's all I need."

"But it scares you, doesn't it? That maybe, things have changed...and you aren't all that _he_ needs anymore. That's the problem with breaking hearts, they tend to stay at least a little cracked."

"I don't need a philosophy lesson from a demon." Sam spat in disgust.

"No, just his help. Because without me, you'd be a useless little whelp."

"Go to Hell, you're nothing. You're not even real."

A smile played on the man's lips. "You should know by now that 'real' is a relative term, used to comfort little children into believing that the monster in their closet won't jump out and tear their throats out. Whether I'm real or not is irrelevant, you need me, Sammy-boy...it's either that, or break that brother of yours further, make him bear the burden of your broken little self."

"I'll die first." Sam said coldly and he watched the man with pure hatred in his eyes, a barely concealed anger.

The man chuckled and he lifted his gaze as his yellow-eyes flashed in the moonlight. "And then you'll still be breaking him, or convincing him to sell his soul again. How cruel. You always were my favorite, Sammy-boy." Azazel smiled coldly.

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**There are not words to describe how freeging tired I am, but after like a week's effort...a chapter! In all of it's nutty glory. XD **

***Damien is a reference to the little boy in The Omen, creepy Satan-spawn. It's just Dean's way of calling the boy creepy and such. XD Supposed to be funny. ANYWAY! **

**I debated on Anubis talking or not, he wasn't going to originally, only gonna be all mysterious and give them the gifts but I thought that the warning was needed anyway...or, to be more accurate, Anubis ignored my wishes and wanted lines. XD~**

**So I intended this as a long story of sorts, but I kind of like the idea of episodic story-ness, which I'll be doing for the 'sequel' which will be 'S7 episodes'. But having already started this way, I think I'll just keep writing it as a single-story, but I might start labeling chapter-titles as episodes, as in...-Episode Name Part 1- and so on. So you can navigate the 'episodes'. But I don't know. Let's just say the whole idea began with a little segment coming up in this story called 'Dean in Wonderland'. XD **

**So please enjoy! And shower me with words. Because they make me want to keep writing. And they really do make my day. When I'm at work, or it's like five in the morning and I wake up to reviews or faves or whatnot, it just brightens my soul. XD And now..**

**Off to work! XD This would be the 'end of the episode'. We'll see how I arrange others. XD~**


	7. Nothing is Quite What it Seems

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for the reviews, D! I was pretty giddy with happiness after reading them. XD And I'm glad you like my Az. I know he's a baddie and all, but he's the guy you love to hate. He's too badass not to be just...ugh. I mean. Go to Hell, Az. XOXO. XD I digress. I wrote the wrong number. What I was trying to say in my blathering (which happens when I get giddy in my author notes XD) is that this is my version of S7, and I already have plans for a S8 that will be posted as episodes as separate stories (but still the same storyline). Cas/Crowley are in this, obviously, but I'm holding off on their POV until I can watch S6 and see what's happening in S7. Which should be fine, cause I have plenty in store for Winchester&Co. XD Ah. I just sneak-peeked at the Death-ep since I needed to know what went on for the story. It's so emotionally turmoiling. ANYWAY! And Cas' hug attempt on Sam...'Cuz it would be awkward'...XDDD ANYWAY AGAIN! So I added a quote to this one. I thought it was Shakespeare but I guess it's Dean Koontz? Either way, it fit the chapter. XD**

**.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- **_ In the real world, as in dreams, nothing is quite what it seems. -Book of Sorrows_

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The low rumble of the speakers playing ACDC and the metallic gyrations of the Impala were the only ambience to an otherwise somber car ride. Dean returned sometime in the late hours of the night to a 'sleeping' Sam. Come morning, they'd barely spoken as they made their way in the Impala. The ultimate destination was back to Singer Salvage, but they'd planned to scope out any cases in the meantime.

Sam's gaze was fixed on the rather redundant landscape outside, his mind focused on his last conversation with Azazel, or rather, the freaky figment that he imagined to be Azazel.

It started two days after Purgatory popped, after he had gotten his wall broken. Azazel appeared to him and kept the worst of his demons at bay. But all the while he taunted and prodded at Sam as an invisible spectre, a figment of his mind, apparently. Sam wanted to confide in Dean and knew that he should, but things like that never turned out well. He and Dean had managed some shaky sense of peace and comfort, and he didn't want to damage that by giving Dean a reason to look at him funny. Like he'd used to when he found out about Sam's psychic abilities.

_Pain. Torment. Agony. Screams. The flesh tore from his bones and he heard a scream. He would have thought it was his own if he hadn't screamed so hard his throat bled. Was there sound left in him? He couldn't cry anymore. Couldn't breathe. Dean's face no longer appeared in his mind, there was only pain. Only-_

_A hand slid through Sam's hair and grabbed it roughly as his head was jerked up and a man tsked. "Sammy-boy...there's no point in crying over spilt blood. And torn flesh. And leaking entrails. It's just part of life, you just gotta...go with it.." _

_Sam's visions of torment faded as he regained cognizance enough to recall that he was free. He was at Singer Salvage, and he'd been supposed to be asleep. "You-" _

_"Me." Azazel cut him off mockingly. _

_Sam jerked away and stumbled to his feet. "You're dead." His tone was almost accusatory, but there was a flicker of fear, of doubt._

_"Don't worry, you're not in Hell. This isn't an illusion. Well, I might be, but who's counting? You're too crazy to know the difference these days." he chuckled._

_"What do you want?" _

_"Want? What? I can't stop in and see how my favorite boy is doing?" Azazel asked innocently._

_Hatred flared in Sam's expression even as his mind raced to attempt to piece together the situation. Azazel couldn't possibly be alive, nor could another demon be possessing the now-rotted corpse-not when it looked unscathed. So was it-_

_"Slow the gears there, turbo. I'm here because you called me here. You need me, and like a good father, here I am." _

_"You're not my father." Sam spat._

_"Oh? I gave you life-by making sure Daddy dearest lived to see another day...and thus screw your darling mother enough times to get you all cozy inside. Then there was my blood, mother's milk, Sammy-boy. We share blood, and what's thicker than that? I made you stronger, Sammy. That little blonde piece would have ruined you, I saved you from her too. So see? I looked out for you." _

_Sam wasn't sure what was going on, but he'd heard enough. He charged past Azazel, if he could get the Colt- "Dean! Bobby!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as he headed for the door._

_Dean must have been on his way in already, because the names barely left his lips before the door opened to reveal an alert, tensed Dean. "Sam? What's going on?" he barked quickly._

_"Dean, it's him! It's-" Sam saw Dean's eyes on him, tense and hesitant, like he was the one with the problem. _

_There was a hand on his shoulder as Azazel stood beside him and waved a hand in front of Dean's face. "He can't see me. Can't hear me. I exist only for you." _

_"So you're not real." Sam whispered and Dean's brow furrowed. _

_"You...alright, Sammy?" _

_"Look at him, Sammy-boy. He thinks you're crazy. Off the deep end. How long, y'think, before he puts you down?" _

_"Shut up." _

_Dean blinked. "Sam?"_

_"Get him first, why not? Do him and you a favor and put him out of his misery before he puts you out of yours-"_

_"-I said shut up!" Sam shouted and Dean took a step back. _

_Azazel simply gave Sam a lazy half-smirk before he disappeared and Sam found himself facing a troubled, uneasy looking Dean. _

_"Dean...I..." Reality came crashing back around Sam and his brother cut him off as Dean's expression went carefully quiet._

_"You're tired, Sammy. Let's get you back to bed." Dean said lowly even as he helped the other to his bed._

_The fact that Dean didn't ask about it, seemed to accept it, only made Sam feel worse. Did his brother really think that he'd gone crazy? _

_And what if he had?_

"Sam?"

Sam jolted and looked over to his brother with a start. Dean was looking between Sam and the road with a mixture of _what-the-Hell_ and _are-you-okay_ in his expression. Clearly Dean had said his name more than once, given his tone and expression.

"I'm fine." he replied thickly and he swallowed hard against a faintly metallic taste in his mouth.

Dean was silent for a moment before he spoke. "You were mumbling."

Sam tried not to wince. "More tired than I thought, I guess."

"Right." Dean let the matter drop for the moment, to Sam's relief, but he could tell that his brother was unsettled and Azazel's, or rather, the figment-Azazel's words haunted him. He was still so unsure. Memories of Hell flitted in and out, though he was spared the full brunt of them by Azazel, apparently. Which he didn't understand, but at the moment, he had little choice but to deal with it. Neither possibility that came to mind to explain Azazel was comforting though. Either Azazel was real and floating around somehow, or he was a figment-which meant that Sam had truly gone off the deep end.

Silence seemed prepared to reign supreme in the car again, and while Sam wasn't exactly in a sharing mood, he didn't want an excuse to keep his current thought-train. "So how was she?"

"'Scuse me?"

"How was she? The girl?"

"...Girl?" Dean drew the word out into a drawling question and he lifted a brow at Sam as though he were crazy until realization seemed to dawn on Dean's face before it shuttered. "She was great." he said dismissively. A _drop it, or else _tone.

"You weren't with a girl last night, were you." It wasn't a question, not really. Sam eyed his older brother as he reviewed the possible reasons for his absence. Part of him instinctively considered that perhaps it was his brother's way of trying to avoid Sam, but that wouldn't make sense...he'd put the amulet back on, and taken care of Sam. He'd saved him.

"Did I say I was with a girl?"

"Yes...?"

"Then I was with a girl." Dean's tone suggested that that was to be the end of the conversation, and Sam might have argued, would have-in the old days. But he was tired, and so was Dean. He could see it in the other's expression, in the faint but weary droop of his eyelids and the grim creases around his lips. They were both suffering, and arguing about little things didn't seem like something they needed right then.

"If you say so." Sam muttered, and Dean cast him a quick, almost puzzled glance like he'd expected an argument before he looked back to the road and at a street marker that read 'Granston, 12 Miles'. Singer Salvage was still a long ways off, and Dean wasn't sure Sam was in a condition to pull a night-shift drive. Dean supposed that he could, but as it was, he was tired as all Hell and the idea of a little break and some food didn't sound half bad. They weren't exactly in a hurry. It wasn't like they had any leads on how to gank 'God'.

"Hey, Samm-shit!"

A flash of a white, a screech of tires, and the scent of burning rubber.

All to avoid one little white rabbit as it scampered across the road. "Dean! What the Hell?"

Dean cursed again as he tried to get his heart rate down at the sudden adrenaline rush. He'd swerved his car on instinct and he was damned lucky he hadn't gone off road. If he'd have hurt his baby... "Rabbit."

"Huh?"

"The rabbit. Ran into the damned road." Dean growled as gazed around irritably, but there was no sign of it now.

"You almost killed us...for a rabbit?" Sam asked slowly, and Dean shot him a withering glare.

"One more word, Sammy. Just one." there was a warning in his tone as he begrudgingly started the car back up to head into town.

Damn rabbit.

...

_"Tut, tut. You know the deal...you get off if someone else gets on...so bleed the bitch, or I'm afraid I'll have to put you back." _

_"No." A hoarse whisper. _

_A whip was passed into Dean's bloody, trembling hand by Alistair who leaned in close to murmur by Dean's ear. "C'mon, Dean. Make us proud." _

_Dean's eyes shot open and he found himself staring up at a motel ceiling. A flickering neon light outside fizzled as a large insect slammed against it. In the bed beside his, Sam lay asleep. Memories of the night before, the near miss with the rabbit, and then pulling into town to grab a motel for the night came back to him. It was a dream, it had all been a dream. A bad memory._

_Dean's gaze slid to his sleeping brother beside him and he relaxed slightly until he noticed Sam's hand clenched around a fistful of blanket, his breathing heavy. A nightmare? "Sammy?" Dean's voice sounded gruff to his own ears and he shook his head as he lumbered to his feet and headed to Sam's bed. "Sammy, wake up." he shook the other lightly. Dean knew from personal experience that a little less sleep was better than rolling around in a nightmare._

_"Nnn...Dean...it hurts..." Sam whimpered and Dean was alert in an instant as he scanned the other quickly. _

_"Sam? What's wrong?" The other had to be awake, but why was he in pain? Sam clenched up a bit and then moaned._

_"It's hurting, Dean...make it stop...please...Dean!" _

_"Sam! Hey! Sammy!" Dean grabbed his brother's shoulders and hauled him up into a sitting position. "Sammy, look at me. Hey!" he shook the other a bit and blood began to drip from Sam's lips as a few tears fell from his eyes. Dark, red tears. _

_"Sammy." a horrified whisper._

_Sam's eyes slowly opened, pained and blood-shot as Sam's hands suddenly lifted to clench Dean's shoulders painfully. "Why didn't you save me, Dean? Why'd you leave me down there? You let me go to Hell!"_

_"No...No, Sammy..." Dean's voice was weak. "I didn't...I never wanted-" _

_"You left me there...with them...the things they did...they tore me apart piece by piece and you __**let them**__." Sam accused. _

_Dean swallowed hard. "Sammy-" _

_"Don't 'Sammy' me." Sam's voice suddenly turned hard. "It's your fault, Dean. Your fault I died and went to Hell. Your fault Jess died, you took me away from her...your fault I became __**this**__!" Sam shouted as his eyes flashed yellow and he suddenly plunged a dagger deep into Dean's throat. It didn't occur to him to wonder where the dagger came from, he was a bit busy choking on his own blood as Sam gazed down at him coldly, those familiar, yellow-eyes mocking and cruel._

_"You're the monster here, Dean. You made me this way." _

"Dean...Dean!"

Dean was startled awake but he wasn't aware as he jerked away from the hands shaking him. His hand flew to his throat and he found it fine, no knife. Sam stood above him, looking down at him with concern and Dean stared up at him. But there were no yellow eyes, just Sam's, worried and confused as he gazed back down at his big brother. "Dean?" it was softer now, tentative like one might speak to a wounded animal.

"Sammy." Dean croaked and he swallowed hard to clear his throat as he let his gaze fall on the room, lit by a dim light beside the bed. The motel. He was in the motel. It had been a dream, just a dream.

There was a hand on his shoulder and he could feel the warmth of that hand as it squeezed. "Dean...you alright?"

Dean swallowed hard again before he lifted his gaze to...Sammy. Just Sammy. Not soulless, or yellow-eyed, or hopped up on demon blood. Just his brother. "M'fine." the word sounded less reassuring than he intended and he shrugged Sam's hand off. Sam had enough to worry about without fussing over him. "Relax, dude. Just a wet dream gone wrong." Dean dismissed it.

Sam frowned. There Dean went, lying again. And this after having lectured Sam on not lying, on how keeping secrets between brothers was a bad thing. He got that Dean was probably trying to protect him and do the whole 'tough guy' slash 'big brother' bit, but why couldn't he seem to understand that being brothers was a two-way street? It was his job to look after Dean as much as it was Dean's to look after him. Dean had been convulsing in bed, shouting his name and repeating 'no'. Was it a dream about Sam being soulless? Was that what was plaguing him?

"Quit lookin' at me like that." Dean growled as ran a hand through his hair and Sam noted something.

A hand snaked out and caught Dean's wrist as he turned it over and frowned. Half-moon crescents like nails were imprinted lightly into Dean's skin, as well as faint burn-marks like hand indents. "What is this?"

Dean's hand was pulled back and shoved by his side. "Who knows? Probably got it when I wrestling that Amex or whatever Hell he was called."

"Ammut. I didn't see him grab you."

"Yeah, well, what else would it be?" Dean challenged.

"You tell me." Sam returned and Dean's green eyes were steely and irritated as he pulled away. Sam scowled faintly before he grabbed Dean's shoulder and forced the other to face him again. "What's going on with you? You spent the first few days walking on eggshells around me, and now all of the sudden, literally, you're...lying and pushing me away? I don't get it, Dean."

There it was, the familiar clench of Dean's jaw, the uncomfortable shift, the faintly annoyed look. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't. Then tell me where you went last night. Why there's a hand print burned in your arm. And why you were shouting my name in your 'wet dream'."

Dean flushed faintly at that before he rose and glared up at his little brother. "Drop it, Sam." he growled.

Sam didn't like to pull the intimidation card, (not that it worked right on Dean anyway), but he did stretch himself to his full height and gaze down at Dean, nonplussed. "Then tell me."

"Screw you." Dean tried to move past him and Sam blocked his way. "Sam, I will deck you. Get outta my way."

"Then do it, Dean. If it'll make you feel better, go ahead." Sam held out his arms in a gesture of defenselessness that only agitated Dean further.

Dean and Sam stared each other down for a moment before Dean turned away and seemed content to ignore the situation.

"What did I tell you, Sammy-boy? Dean doesn't trust you. He thinks you're playing with a half-deck." Azazel taunted and he clucked his tongue as Sam shot him a venemous look before he turned his gaze back onto his brother.

"Dean..." he tried a softer approach. "Please. Look, man...You want me to be straight with you, that goes both ways. I need my brother."

Dean stiffened before slowly he tilted his gaze back to Sam and stared hard at his younger brother a moment. Finally, he inclined his head slightly. "I went to see a woman last night."

"Dean-" Sam started, disappointed that his brother was going to keep that up.

"-Shut up, Sam." Dean interrupted before he continued. "I met her while I was hunting for the next piece of croc-bait. The man that thing killed was her fiance. I figured they lived together so I went to the address on the I.D. I didn't talk to her. Came back to the motel. End of story." He didn't bother explaining about the flowers and the scrawled note. That was private business.

Sam's expression softened. "Dean..."

"Dude. I don't wanna talk about it, which is kinda why I didn't tell you to begin with. Not everything needs to be on Oprah." Dean said gruffly.

Well, that made him feel a bit guilty about pushing Dean. But what else was he supposed to do? "And the marks? The dream?"

"...Hell." And Sam knew from that one word he meant the dream. "And that's all I'm gonna say, damnit, so quit asking. So next time I say 'drop it', here's a clue, _drop it_."

Sam didn't like that he still hadn't really gotten an answer. It wasn't even the wound so much that concerned him as Dean's unwillingness to talk about it. He'd gotten a little something out of the other though, typical Dean tough-guy crap that enticed him to cover up something as simple as checking on a...victim, of sorts.

"Get dressed. It's almost seven, something'll be open. I want pancakes." Dean said decidedly, and suddenly, as he began changing his clothes. Sam hadn't even realized that he'd been playing space cadet until he'd snapped back.

"Pancakes?" It was so out of the blue that Sam had to be a little taken aback.

"Uh, yeah? What, you got somethin' against pancakes now?" Dean gave Sam a hard look.

Sam wasn't sure whether to laugh or to call his brother an idiot, but he was relieved. Dean's nonchalant, more charismatic behavior was something akin to an apology and a 'let's move on'. He'd been worried that Dean might spend the rest of the day sulking. "Nothing at all. Pancakes it is."

Dean flashed him a faint look of triumph, like getting Sam to agree to pancakes was some victory on Dean's part, and there was a little flourish in his step as he murmured some rock song or another and headed into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Pancakes? Is this how 'heroes' spend their freetime? Munching pancakes and arguing about who's got the nastier 'wet dream'?" Azazel drawled.

"Be quiet." Sam hissed under his breath, his lighter mood ruined by the presence of the dem-figment. He was losing his mind, surely, despite all of his rational explanations to explain the figment of Azazel, he was on a decline and he knew it. The sane thing would be to banish the figment, but if did that-all of those memories would come rushing back and then...then he wasn't sure that he could take it. For now, until he could find a way to banish the illusion and hold his mind together, he had to put up with it. Because the alternative...hurting Dean...that was too much more to bear.

...

"I'll have a stack of pancakes, bacon, and a piece of 'razzleberry' pie." Dean ordered as he flashed a casual smile at their waitress who promtply turned her attention to Sam. She collected his order without a second glance at Dean as she left, much to his amusement and Dean's chagrin.

"What the Hell is a razzleberry anyway?" Dean asked as he frowned slightly.

"It's a mixture of berries...why did you order it if you didn't know what it was?"

"Dude. It's pie. You have to ask?"

Sam lifted a brow but chose not to comment, meanwhile, Dean began examining the paper he'd swiped from the front when he he noted an insert that had fallen out.

"Lessee...missing girl, Alice Townsend, age eleven...missing..." he trailed off before he passed the paper to Sam with a grim expression.

Sam examined it and then shared his brother's look. "Missing the night Purgatory popped."

The girl in the picture seemed slight for her age, with soulful blue eyes and a mess of straight black hair.

"She went missing here in town...our next case?"

Dean didn't seem exactly eager to jump on that bandwagon, but he nodded slightly anyway. "Why not? Might as well."

Sam eyed his brother. "You don't want to?"

Dean was silent a moment before he shrugged. "What do you think our chances of finding her alive are?" When Sam didn't respond, he smiled grimly. "S'what I thought."

Sam understood his brother's attitude then, and fell silent as he looked back down at the ad. She was likely dead, and if they did find her...it wasn't going to be a happy ending, that was for sure. But if her death was related to Purgatory's opening...well, it was still worth looking into.

"Son of a bitch."

"Dean?" Sam noticed that Dean's gaze was fixed on the window, or rather, on what was beyond it.

"It's her...dude, it's the girl!" Dean slid out from the table and darted out of the diner.

"Wait, what? Dean!" Sam cursed and then followed after his brother. He didn't bother with apologies to the servers, it wasn't like they'd eaten and run anyway.

Across the street from the diner was a large patch of forest-land, and it was there that Dean chased the girl. He'd seen her staring at him and then she'd started to run, hence his giving chase. "Hey! Alice!" he called after her. No way he'd made a mistake.

Sam pounded rubber against dirt as he chased after his brother and finally caught a glimpse of the black-haired girl who they were to be chasing. She was alive then? Or was she- "Dean, wait!" but Dean, whether he heard Sam or not, continued to run. They'd just been discussing the missing girl, and all of the sudden she showed up and ran from them? Some might call it coincidence, but Sam knew better.

It was _never_ coincidence.

Dean rushed into a clearing of the woods with a small lake where he'd seen her go, but it just figured, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Damnit." he muttered.

"Dean!" Sam joined the other and took a glance around. "She's gone?"

"Looks like." Dean exhaled heavily. "You saw her too, right?"

"Yup. But I'm not sure she's-"

"-Alive? Yeah, I kinda got that vibe too."

"So a ghost, maybe?"

"Could be. Or something disguising itself as her."

"Or it could be none of the above. Not that it is my concern." a voice remarked casually.

Dean froze, and by his side, Sam stiffened. He knew that voice, and he knew that if he was hearing it...he probably wasn't going to like what it had to say. Dean turned to face the new arrival. "Gotta say, wasn't expecting you."

"Despite the fact that I am the most inevitable constant, you'd be surprised how many people say that. Particularly those for whom the fault in their sudden death lies." Death, in all of his regal if elderly glory, stood before them.

_The Hell...? _ Death. One of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Tessa's boss. The sneaky bastard who'd told them to 'keep digging' and brought back Sam's broken soul.

Yeah. No such thing as damned coincidence.

"Right. Well Sam and I aren't dead yet, last I checked, and I don't think you dropped in to say 'hi', so what do you want?"

Death's eyes narrowed slightly. "Shall we discuss manners again, Dean?"

Dean's jaw clenched slightly but he eased up a bit. He knew he couldn't take Death on, and he didn't want Sam caught in any crossfire. If Death wanted to talk, he didn't have much choice but to sit back and listen.

Death seemed to approve of his silence and continued. "I have a proposition for you."

"Say what now?" The surprise in Dean's voice was obvious and Death gave him a long-suffering look.

"A proposition. It means I've come to offer you a deal."

"Yeah, I got that part. So again. Say what now?"

"Dean." Sam's voice was a low warning as he watched Death and felt an unfamiliar anxiety rise inside of him. The other had replaced his soul, something that he was glad of now, but the other still terrified him. More than just what he represented, it was who he was...Death emanated a chill that sent shivers down his spine, and he was honestly surprised that his brother seemed so well able to tolerate it. But then, his brother had a knack for exceeding expectations in the strangest ways, as others had noted.

Death tilted his gaze towards Sam and a flicker of a faintly mocking smile curved his lips. "Your brother has more wisdom than you where I'm concerned."

"Wisdom's never really been my thing. I'm more of a wing-it kind of guy."

Death gave no indication that he'd heard other than a faint, unamused glance at Dean before he spoke again. "I have something you want, and would be willing to part with in exchange for your assistance."

"Okay, I'll bite...what is it you have that I'd want?"

Death's smile was mirthless, and chilling. "A way to save Castiel."

Dean and Sam both fell silent before Dean found his voice to speak again. "Come again?"

Death lifted a light brow, unimpressed, apparently. "I assume that you don't wish to kill the angel, and frankly, his assistance in keeping you alive and hard at work is convenient. His current...state of being, however, is not. In exchange for your assistance in ending his so-called 'god-hood' and that wretched Crowley's 'reign', and returning the souls to Purgatory, I will give you the means to keep him alive. Are you with me so far?"

Sam didn't really key into the part about keeping them alive. "We're useful to you, so you'll keep him alive...for us?"

"Not for you." Death corrected him. "You're occasionally useful to me, so I'll keep him alive, to ensure that I don't have to continually be cleaning up your self-sacrificing messes. As Dean well knows, messes in relation to death can be..."

"Hell." Dean finished grimly.

"Not the word I would have used, but strangely appropriate." Death conceded.

Sam looked between the two and was certain that he was missing something. But now was not the time to ask about it.

"Alright, shoot. What's the deal? How do we defuse a god-nuke? And how does Crowley being in charge piss you off anyway?"

Death gave him a dry look. "That is not your concern. As for...defusing Castiel, you'll require assistance and a few...things. The assistance comes first. You'll need a pair of them, for starters, an angel, and a demon."

Dean's expression flat-lined as Sam's began to look agitated. "Whoa. Back up. You want us to partner up with...not one, but two assholes? How does this help us?"

Death's faintly narrow-eyed look effectively cowed Dean and he gave a similar look to Sam before he spoke. "You'll get more information in time. For now, it is enough to know that they are necessary to save Castiel's life as well as divert the souls back into Purgatory...Crowley is more easily dealt with. You will need to recruit the pair."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before Dean said begrudgingly. "Fine. Let's say we're going with this, where are these guys?"

"The demon is in Heaven. The angel is in Hell."

Dean and Sam simply stared before Dean took a few steps forward, his jaw clenched as he addressed Death. "How the _Hell_ does that work? And when you say 'recruit', you mean _we_ gotta go get these bastards?"

Death's expression soured but he didn't have to move so much as a finger before Dean got a confused look on his face and then collapsed to his knees, making the expression of trying to breathe and finding it futile.

"Dean!" Sam knelt down by his brother and it didn't take a genius to figure out that Death was causing him to asphixiate somehow. "Stop! Please! _Please_!" Sam addressed Death with a 'please', the guy seemed to like manners after all and he wasn't sure if Death honestly intended to kill him or not.

Death's expression relaxed from faintly sour to blank and he didn't move as Dean suddenly gasped in air and Sam pulled his heavily breathing big brother to his feet.

"I trust I have made my point?"

Dean's gaze spoke volumes of his dislike of Death, but there was a new caution there as he nodded slowly. Don't mouth off to Death. Check.

Death seemed approving again. "There is an item in Heaven that one of you would need to retrieve, it contains within it a very powerful, very...unusual demon. In Hell, in a very modest version of the Hell Cage, there is an imprisoned angel of similar qualifications. One of you would need to venture into Hell to retrieve him."

Dean's and Sam's eyes widened at that little revelation. "You want one of us...to go downstairs?"

"I believe that is what I said."

Heaven was one thing. It was crazy, but it was one thing. But _Hell_?

"There's gotta be another way." Dean's breathing had mostly righted itself and he shrugged away Sam's grip as he stood on his own.

"There is." Death said simply and Dean's _continue _expression seemed to amuse Death faintly, and he clearly took some small satisfaction in being able to reply. Death slipped something from his jacket, a small reaver scythe which he held out to Dean. "This is the other way."

Dean stiffened as he stared down at the scythe before his gaze slid back up to Death who accordingly sheathed the weapon, knowing full well that neither Dean nor Sam would take it. "No."

"Then you'll recruit the others?"

"I'm not going back to Hell. Neither is Sam. And no one is killing Cas. We'll find another way."

Death didn't seem surprised, but nor was he pleased. "I don't make the same offer twice. Think hard before you turn it down over something as trivial as-"

"-Trivial as what? Hell? 'Cuz that's a pretty damned big deal to me." Dean snapped before he fell silent as Death frowned. "Look. I, uh, appreciate the offer. But it's no deal. Sorry."

"I have seen the beginning, and I will see the end long past it's conclusion. I have no reason to lie, and I know the possibilities. What I offer is your only option for saving Castiel, I can guarantee that. Even so, you'll still turn it down?"

Dean hesitated, and at his side, he could practically feel Sam's similar hesitation. But there was no way he was letting Sam revisit Hell, and no way that he would either. If Death wasn't gonna yank them out, then going down would be literally going down and he couldn't...there was no way. He and his brother had had enough from Hell. "Me and Sam have pulled off the impossible before. I think we'll take our chances."

Death pursed his lips but faintly inclined his head. "Remember, Dean. I don't make the same offer twice." He withdrew his Horsemen's ring from his pocket and slipped it on, and disappeared.

Sam looked around as if he might find Death still lurking about, but Dean simply stared hard at the spot he'd disappeared in. There was an uneasy feeling in his gut and he wondered briefly if he'd spoken too soon. But how could he have said 'yes'? Heaven was one thing, he'd broken in before, sort of. But Hell?

"You really think there's another way? If Death himself said there isn't?"

"There's gotta be, Sam." Dean had to believe that.

"...I know you don't like it, Dean...but if it could stop everything...I could-"

"_No_." Dean whirled around, his expression furious as he stalked toe-to-toe with his brother and glared up at him. "Say one more word, just one, and I will kick your ass." he growled. "You came out of Hell in pieces, Sam, you're still not all there and-" he trailed off as he saw Sam flinch and realized what he'd said. Dean's expression relaxed slightly, and he clenched his jaw in agitation. "Neither of us is going back. You got that?"

Sam was silent and he prodded. "Sam?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"From the mouth of babes. 'Not all there'. Not that I'm an expert, but isn't that kind of Dean's way of saying you're an unreliable basket-case?" Azazel mused, having appeared by Sam's shoulder.

Heedless of the devil whispering into Sam's ear, so to speak, Dean felt the need to add a little something. "Look...Sammy...I'm counting on you, man. We'll get through this, but we gotta be in on it together. And I get it, Hell's not something you just...get over."

"That's not what you said when you got out." Sam said, a bit quietly.

Dean wasn't sure if he'd hurt Sam's feelings, or just disappointed him, but he didn't like it either way. He didn't like the situation and he was still pissed the Hell off. And he didn't like having to offer up emotional crap, especially at a time like this. But Sam...he'd spent a century in Hell, and for what? To save the damned world? To come back and be tortured and told to go back to save the world again? Dean's protective hackles were proverbially raised and he wanted to erase it all from Sam. The nightmares, the pain, the memories...but he couldn't. So the least he could do was not be an ass, sometimes, right?

Dean sighed to himself as he slipped a hand onto Sam's shoulder and his brother regarded him with silent, faint surprise as Dean squeezed his shoulder. "I need my brother too, Sammy. Okay?"

Those little words were all it took. Genuine surprise flickered into Sam's expression as he stared down at Dean. Just a few words, but rife with meaning and the fact that Dean had bothered to say them. If not for the fact that Dean was watching, he might have been tempted to shoot a triumphant expression at that prick-figment. He was wrong. Dean trusted him, Dean might not have thought that Sam was alright-but not because he was crazy. It was because he'd been to Hell too and he knew what it did to a person. It was because Dean gave a damn even if no one else did. Them against the world.

A ghost of a smile curved Sam's lips as he nodded. These days, getting Dean to so much as admit he was sick was a hurdle, so for him to offer up a bit of 'chick-flick moment' spoke volumes. From Dean, that was a pure expression of love from his big brother. He didn't need to hear the exact words, he knew what Dean meant. And Sam knew his brother knew the same. "Okay. We'll find a way." An agreement, a simply spoken pact between the Winchester brothers, a mantra against everything else.

"Damn straight." Dean agreed with a faint smile of his own as he released his brother's shoulder and turned away. And only then did he let the smile fade and the grim doubt enter his eyes.

Death himself had declared it impossible, and honestly, Dean had no idea how he could possibly prove him wrong.

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**"And why you were shouting my name in your 'wet dream'." I'm sorry, but I have to give myself props for the unintentional setup that allowed me to say that line. XD Oh Sam, being too clever and Dean, being...Dean. XD I laughed. And the little pie scene. XD I digress! I have the day off today and the S6 DVD! Anyone wanna guess how I'm spending my day? XD *excitement* Hey, you people reading, just saying...If you wanna click that button and leave me some review action and such, it would totally make my existence bright and happy and I know that being such nice people...XD I don't normally ASK for reviews (hint sometimes XD), but I'm concerned by the lack of them for this story. It makes me nervous. ;-; XD But you don't have to. Just keep reading. I can make myself happy watching the visitor count go up. XD By the by, I was tempted to stop the story at 'A way to save Castiel', nice dramatic little ending. But-the next two chapters are the Wonderland chapters, so I had to squeeze everything into this one chapter. XD And some faint brotherly fluff at the end to ease the angst and pain. XD**


	8. A Supernatural Wonderland

**So I finally finished S6. I would have written this a bit differently, had I known what I know now, but nothing too drastic-I think. XD And don't worry, Death isn't out of the picture. He's too cool. XD By the by, this first bit of the chapter was meant to have been on the end of the last one. Or something. Anyway- THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS. And for those of you who just bother to read, I adore that as well. XD Thank you all. AND CAS HAD BETTER GET REDEEMED! Or [I] fangirls will cry. XD **

**By the way, I wasn't gonna have a rabbit-house scene. But it was requested by a lovelytastic reviewer, so I came up with an on-the-fly bit about it. And the chocolate is given through questionable means but Dean wasn't gonna make the same mistake twice so...there. XD This is a really long chapter. My longest ever. XD I should probably have just screwed the two/three parts plan and just split it up. XD *smacks head*  
><strong>

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Hollow. That was the best way to describe it. And yet, the worst. It was like one trying to describe the sensation of sleeping. How do you describe something that is so integral to your being, and yet, so far from your most basic stream of consciousness? On the one hand, there seemed to be a deficiency of emotional capability that far exceeded what was recognized previously. On the other, there was a bitter, raw taste that could only be described as utterly, painfully, and undeniably _human_. And if hollow was the word to use, then such humanity could not exist. A paradox.

And then there was Death.

Above the shattered screams and the rank stench of mottled flesh and cinders, there was an eerie calm. The still winds of Death. And in that staid arena, everything had been lost. Years of work for naught, lives come to an end for nothing, any life saved previously had been rendered obsolete and meaningless. Because they had failed, and the fallen prodigal son had succeeded.

The soul who pondered this stood before the ruined waste, stood before the end, and found only a detached sense of loss compounded upon by the implicit knowledge everything, including it's purpose, had been stolen away.

"You bring the term 'fallen' to a whole new light, you realize?"

The soul turned. "You've come to collect me, and yet, how can you collect what doesn't exist?" it laughed then, _hollowly_, because then perhaps, that _was_ the right word. Just for then.

There was no answer forthcoming from Death who regarded the broken soul, if one could call it that, before him. "I am not here to necessarily collect you."

"Pardon?"

"I am here to offer you a proposition."

"You...want to make a deal...with me? What could _you_ possibly want from me?" Another laugh, more of a choke, really. "It's already over now. Everyone is dead." and more quietly- "He's dead."

"He doesn't have to be."

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"It went this way!" Dean's footsteps pounded the forest floor, followed close behind by Sam.

"Dean, are you sure you saw-"

"It was wearing a jacket!"

The white rabbit. The one that ran in front of their car the night prior. Apparently it was here, and wearing a jacket, according to Dean.

Sam was inclined to think his brother had, at the very least, had a trick of the eyes played on him. But considering all the strange things he'd seen, he could give his brother the benefit of the doubt. And then there it was, a flash of white, the crunch of a twig, and...a rabbit, in a miniature jacket.

The rabbit stopped suddenly and seemed to disappear and as Dean and Sam approached, they noted a little hole.

"Sneaky bastard." Dean muttered as he peered down at the hole. "What do you think it was?"

"Maybe it was someone's idea of a joke?"

"Who the Hell would think a rabbit in a jacket's funny?"

"If you have a better theory, I'm all ears."

Dean shook his head mildly as if exasperated before he picked up a stick and prodded the hole a bit, and then stuck it down the hole as he tried to test it's depth. "Freakin' rabbit..." he muttered and he was about ready to abandon his little test when he felt the ground shift a bit beneath him. Next thing he knew, he was falling, and fast.

"Dean!"

Sam's voice was above him as he hurtled down into the darkness, and Sam found himself not far behind.

...

_Flames. Flames bursting over his skin. His blood boiling. Eyes roasting in their sockets. A soundless scream. Hell, this was Hell, this was agony, this was torment, this was pain, this was-_

"Sam! Sammy, damn you, wake up!" Dean's voice broke through Sam's haze as his eyes fluttered open and he felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him.

"Dean..?" he wheezed.

"Son of a bitch." Dean whispered as he stared down at Sam before he pulled the other up into a sitting position. "You alright?"

Sam managed a nod and he swallowed hard, that metallic taste in his mouth again. He met his brother's worried gaze a moment before he noted their surroundings. "Uh, Dean...where are we?"

It appeared to be a cave of some kind and above them was a long tunnel upwards, further than light could be seen although he was certain that up was where they'd fallen from. There was a black-and-white checkered pattern on the floor, and furniture sticking out from the walls. Spirals and other squiggling adornments were around the room and in the middle, a table with two beers and a pie.

"Good question. Don't have an answer. We fell through a hole, ended up here, and you were unconscious." And not breathing, but Dean didn't feel the need to mention that. Or the way he'd felt like his own heart had stopped with his sudden onset of anxiety. Sam's condition terrified him in a profound way, but he couldn't let the other know. He just had to keep Sam safe, that was all that mattered.

Dean rose and pulled Sam up alongside of him. There was a small door in the corner, but there was no way in Hell that they'd fit through it. Didn't appear to be any other exits either. With a frown, he made his way over to the table where a little 'drink me' sign was set by the beer, and an 'eat me' sign was set by the pie. There was also a little key. Something struck a faint chord in his memory, but he couldn't quite figure out what that was. "Hey, check it out-" Dean poked at the pie and when his finger came up covered in fruity-pie filling, he licked it away without much thought. "Still warm, y'think that means-"

Sam had been examining the room when his brother spoke, and he was too late to object when Dean lifted his finger to his lips. Dean hadn't finished speaking when he doubled over suddenly and groaned. "What the-Ugh... "

"Dean!" Sam was by his side in an instant, and that was only just enough time to watch in horror as Dean, clothes included, shrank before his eyes. And just like that, a miniaturized Dean stared up at Sam in stunned surprise from the floor.

"No friggen way..." Dean mumbled as he looked down at himself and then at the large room and his towering giant of a little brother.

Sam's face suddenly got a lot closer to his as Sam knelt down and peered at Dean with a mixture of worry and something that Dean could only describe as fascination-the bastard-and Sam gently poked his finger against Dean's chest as if to affirm that he were really there.

"Hey! Watch it!" Dean snapped as he pushed Sam's finger away, unnerved by the fact that it was almost damned bigger than he was. "What just happened?" he demanded, as if Sam might know. His voice wasn't very loud, but it carried in the quiet room enough for Sam to hear.

"You ate the pie, Dean. You're lucky it wasn't poisoned! What were you thinking?"

Dean winced. Sam's agitated voice was booming around him. And how the Hell was this lucky? "Stop shouting, Godzilla!" Sam looked a cross between faintly annoyed and apologetic as he spoke more quietly.

"Dean, I think I know what this is...sort of." his knees were hurting against the ground and he reached out a hand towards Dean who eyed it warily. "I'm gonna set you on the table, alright?"

"Like Hell I'm letting you pick me up, you freak." Dean growled, unsettled and on edge from the situation.

Sam shook his head and scooped a protesting Dean up into his palm and for a second as he rose, he just had to stop and stare at the small form seated on his palm. It was such a sudden and ludicrous situation, and moreover...it was his big brother, Dean, smaller than a doll in his hand. If he so much as squeezed to hard, Dean's little body could be crushed. The weight of his present situation was daunting and he resolved to keep close watch on the other.

"Sam!" Dean's voice was somewhat sharp and Sam noted a familiar look on Dean's small face. It was the same one he wore on the few occasions they'd ridden in an airplane.

Sam quickly, but gently, placed his brother on the table and Dean shot him a glare before he backed away from the edge and regarded his little brother. "So what the Hell's going on?"

"Well..." he hesitated and Dean lifted a brow expectantly. "You remember Alice in Wonderland?"

"Excuse me?"

"Alice in Wonderland...? Little girl follows a rabbit in a waistcoat down a hole and ends up in Wonderland?"

Realization dawned as Dean seemed to get the hint. "Yeah, I remember somethin' like that...you don't think..."

"Rabbit in a jacket...hole...magic food...the missing girl, Alice...you're the one who doesn't believe in coincidence." Sam noted.

"So what? I ate the pie and now I'm an action figure?"

"...That's one way of putting it. If you drink the beer, you should grow...in theory.." Dean was about to demand a drink, he could tell, and he continued. "But we aren't getting out of here that way." Sam pointed to the little door. "We have to be small to get through there."

"And then what? We don't know what's on the other side of that door."

"Wonderland?" Sam suggested and Dean shook his head.

"You are such a nerd."

Sam gave his brother's head a very light flick of reprisal and received a glare for his efforts. "We don't have another option. There's no other way out, and if something is coming for us down here-which is unlikely-you really want us stuck here?"

Reason and survival instinct warred with anxiety and survival instinct, but finally, begrudgingly, Dean muttered. "Fine. We'll try it your way. But stick a beer in your pocket in case. My clothes got mini with me, so maybe the beer'll get small too."

Sam was actually impressed with that reasoning and he complied as he slid a beer into his pocket before he took the key as well. He remembered the story, somewhat, and the movie vaguely-Jess' idea in a roundabout way, so he knew better than to leave it be. Sam then held out his hand beside Dean. "One more time."

Dean scowled. "You just can't wait to get your hands on me. Friggen pervert."

Sam didn't bother to dignify that with a response as he spared the waiting and scooped up his brother once more before he set him down by the door and then took a moment to smirk at the other faintly. "It must suck that your little brother always ends up bigger than you..." Just how long had it been since Sam had had to look up at Dean?

Dean's response was to flip Sam off and he allowed himself a flicker of amusement despite a grim feeling in his gut. If this really was the little girl's doing, somehow, then what was she?

And if it wasn't her...then what the Hell were they dealing with?

A few minutes and a distasteful bite of pie later, Sam found himself on more equal ground with Dean-and punched in the shoulder for good measure-and discovered that while the beer had shrunk, the key had not.

"Figures." Dean muttered before he grabbed a side of the key and Sam got the idea as he moved along the other side and hefted the key up. The pair of them lifted the key to the doorlock but as they tried to shove it in, a pair of eyes opened as a somewhat familiar voice shouted indignantly.

"Watch it, ya idjits!"

"Bobby?" Dean was rendered momentarily speechless alongside his brother, and the door scoffed.

"That ain't my name! And watch where yer pokin' that key, ya hear me?"

"Dude. I think someone slipped something in that pie." Dean tilted his stunned gaze to Sam who shook his head.

"Who just eats a random pie anyway, Yogi?" Sam muttered.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean hissed at the comical reference jab before he saw that the door appeared to be glaring at him. Being glared at by the door. That had to be a new one for the hunter records. "So...uh...Door." This was too crazy. "Are you...the door to Wonderland?"

"And if I was?" the door demanded.

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance before the pair hefted up the key again. There was only one way to go, it seemed, and before the door could object again, they shoved the key in and turned the lock.

"...That's it?"

Dean's question came after they'd gone through the door, and wound up in a large-looking garden of sorts, surrounded by plants and trees. Sure, the plants were pretty giant-sized, but otherwise...

"If this really is supposed to be Wonderland, I doubt it." In fact, knowing their luck, he doubly doubted it.

"So what now?"

"We find a way out." At a time like this, once upon a time, they might have called Castiel. But that was a no-go option now. Wherever they were, or whatever this was, they were on their own. "So start walking."

Whether Dean was having similar thoughts, he couldn't tell, but Dean didn't say anything as he and Sam walked side-by-side for a few minutes, taking in the abnormally large world around them.

In truth, Dean did note the lack of being able to call Castiel, amongst other things. He didn't like the reminder, or the unfamiliar territory. Dean was a hunter, he was used to weird, but he still liked to be in his element. He liked to be able to know what was coming and respond accordingly, to be able to fulfill his duty and protect Sammy and anyone else in his way.  
>Dean was broken from his thoughts as he stumbled forward suddenly, apparently tripped by a root of some kind and he grabbed onto the nearest thing to right himself: a flower.<p>

"Oh, my word!" a huffy, irritated woman's voice came from the flower and Dean's expression was a rare one, a stricken, deer-in-the-headlights look as he jerked back and stared up at the glaring...flower? "You philandering cad!"

"Uh..."

Sam simply stared beside Dean. They'd handled all manner of supernatural baddie, celestial entity, and unholy minion...but this? This was just plain weird.

"Go! Get out! Go!" the flower shooed at Dean and when several other pairs of eyes on flowers were glaring at him, he took that as his cue.

"Sam, let's _go_." Dean hissed as he shoved the other forward a bit before he seemed stricken again. A flower lifted a leafy arm to pat his rear, and then winked at him. "I think a flower just...groped me. And winked at me. I just got violated by a flower."

Sometimes, his brother was ten kinds of moron but he wouldn't have him any other way. Despite their situation, he had to smirk faintly. "Probably karma. For groping that other flower."

"Bitch." Dean growled.

"Jerk." Sam was, for the brief moment, all smiles.

Levity wasn't the best approach to the situation, but damned if it wasn't nice to have five seconds of something decent. He wasn't sure what they were going to do, for starters, he didn't even know where they were. Short of say, the Trickster or an angel, who could do this to them? And since both options were unlikely, actually-one was impossible since the Trickster a.k.a. Gabriel was dead, so who had done it?

A flash of white ahead of them was their indicator that the rabbit was indeed here.

"Sam, the rabbit!" Dean shot his brother a 'hurry your ass up' glance and then took off. The rabbit was the only 'familiar' thing so far. The rabbit had taken them to this world, sort of, and perhaps he could get them out.

Dean could barely keep up as he caught little glimpses of white here and there. But the little rabbit was damned quick and soon he lost track of it all together.

Only to find a house instead.

Dean stopped his run and eyed the house before him as Sam ran up alongside of him. "Dean?"

"The rabbit got away, but check it out." he tilted his head in the direction of the house.

"Worth looking into." He wasn't sure if they could find someone who could actually help, but it was the best lead they had at the moment.

Dean headed up to the door, followed behind by Sam. He knocked once, twice, and at the third knock, the door simply opened. Dean cast a wary glance in before exchanging a glance with Sam, and then heading in with a shrug. "Hello? Anyone here?" he called out, and when he received no response, he started to head further in until he heard someone call out-

"The _menage a douze_* isn't until tomorrow, you twit! Honestly, as if I didn't have enough to do."

Dean and Sam exchanged a glance. That voice...

A hurried-man in a jacket emerged and cast them an annoyed glance. A man with a beeping wrist-watch, and a set of rabbit's ears from his head.

"Balthazar?"

The man didn't seem to hear as he muttered to himself and went moving about.

"Hey...Hey!" Dean, annoyed, placed himself in front of the other as he grabbed his shoulder and forced the man to look at him. "Where the Hell have you been? And what's with the ears?" They had never ascertained for certain that Balthazar had died, though they'd suspected it when attempts to summon him had failed. But apparently, here he was. Maybe this was another alternate world he'd transported them to?

"Oh, fine! You want an advance on your payment? Here!"

Something was shoved into Dean's mouth and he had the familiar, sweet taste of chocolate in his mouth before he swallowed instictively and then cursed. He didn't want to risk eating anything in this world again. "You ass-" but 'Balthazar' had already disappeared into the hallway and Dean clutched his stomach.

"Ugh...Sammy, I think I'm..."

"Not again!"

"Not my fault!" Dean gritted out before his eyes widened as his hand seemed to inflate before his eyes. Next thing he knew, the rest of his body was following suit and growing larger. "Shit! Sam! Make it stop!"

"What do you want me to do? Wave my magic wand?" Sam snarked in reply, mostly out of agitation for his brother's sake. He looked around desperately, but there was no 'eat me' or 'drink me' to help out, and the beer in his pocket was for growing-definitely not helpful now. He should have taken some pie, apparently.

Dean stumbled back and ended up fallen on his rump as he continued growing, now towering over Sam for the first time in years.

Sam had to back away, lest he be crushed by his growing brother.

"What do I do?" Dean's had nowhere to go and as he kept growing, he was forced to thrust his large arms out the windows, and his legs likewise, rather making a mess of the house and breaking it in the process. His head literally raised the roof, and for the second time he wore a rare, stricken look.

"Just...uh...hold on! I'll find something!" Sam called up to Dean and he saw the other wince as he tried to pull his arm free, stuck fast in the wall slash window.

"You broke my bloody house!" an outraged voice called out from below, not far from Sam in what small moving space remained. "You hairless ape! I'm late enough as it is, and you go and wreck my house!" Rabbit-Balthazar looked up in outrage and it became clear that whoever this was, it wasn't the real Balthazar. So what was the deal?

Sam approached the other cautiously. "Do you have anything that will shrink him?"

"Oh! As if _this_ isn't enough damage?"

"You're the one that gave me the damned chocolate!" Dean's voice boomed overhead. He could hear their conversation and fully blamed the Rabbit-Balthazar for the situation.

Rabbit-Balthazar winced. "Fine! Fine! Have it your way! As if I knew you'd be such a prat...you are officially off of the list." he headed over to a dresser as he squeezed past Dean's leg and began rummaging around.

Sam watched before he looked to Dean and gave him a comforting pat on his large leg, litle good that it did. "Just hold on, alright?"

"Not like I have a choice." Dean snapped back, and he winced again as he tried to tug his arms away to no avail.

Sam chose to be sympathetic rather than annoyed, and as the rabbit produced a carrot, he accepted it with a frown up at his brother. "Only one way to do this, I guess..." he slipped the carrot into his pocket and began trying to climb onto Dean.

"Hey! What do you think you're doin', Sammy?"

"You can't move your arms, so I'll have to feed it to you. Pain in the ass." Sam added the last bit in a mutter that the over-sized Dean didn't hear. But he wasn't really calling the other that so much as commenting on the situation. Mostly.

Dean's expression spoke volumes of his displeasure at being climbed on and fed to, the situation in general-really, but he didn't protest and watched as Sam pulled himself up Dean's leg and then up his shirt until he could reach Dean's mouth. He opened wide and Sam hurled the carrot in, and he gulped it down in one swallow. There didn't seem to be any affect for a moment, until in a sudden _whoosh_ Dean's limps shot back into himself and Sam found himself meeting the ground in a sudden, mildly painful fall. "Dean?"

"Son of a bitch!" Dean seemed tempted to use his favored phrase quite often in the present situation. He was again 'action-figure' sized [as compared even to the shrunken state they'd previously been in] as he glared up at Sam.

Sam was too exasperated to really be amused at this point. "Let's agree: no more eating things in this world."

"He shoved it in my mouth!" Dean protested, innocent this time at least, and Sam simply shook his head in reply as he undid the top of the beer and poured a bit into the cap where it would be more easily drunk by Dean. A few small sips later, he found himself growing again [and his clothes along with him still, thankfully] and wound up at a proper size.

Rabbit Balthazar had already left, apparently once he'd provided the carrot he felt that his duty was done. So be it. "Better?"

Dean gave a slightly shaken nod. "We just got here and I already hate this place. And what's with that Balthazar-looking thing? It wasn't a demon." he brushed himself off with a frown.

"Not sure. Last I checked, missing angels weren't part of the original story."

A flash of black hair outside, a quick glimmer of blue eyes, and Alice was running again. "The girl! Alice-she's here!" If anyone could help them find their way out of this weird-ass world, it was her, right? Something to look for at any rate, and he took off after her.

"Dean, hold on a second!" but Sam's protests were in vain as Dean darted swiftly after the little girl.

"Hey! Alice! Girl!" he added that last bit in case she didn't respond to 'Alice' for some reason. Definitely something eerie about the girl. Maybe she was a special case, like Jesse?

Dean didn't stop running until he realized that he was short one little brother.

"Sam?" he called out, but there was no response. The trees seemed of regular size, despite the odd plants, but he still felt disconcerted. There was light, but he couldn't see the sky at all, so how did that make sense? The trees were thick and and there wasn't a single sound around him...except for a cough?

"Sam?" Dean pushed past a bit of brush and side-stepped a tree to end up back in the path of the more garden-like area, and as he pushed past a few towering blades of grass...

He found a scruffily beared man dressed in an extravagant, multi-colored silk suit perched atop a mushroom smoking from a hookah pipe and spewing rainbow-colored smoke.

Dean stared at the man. "...Chuck?"

...

"Dean? Damnit, Dean!" Sam shouted loudly, but there wasn't even an echo back. Great. Trapped in 'Wonderland' not five minutes and Dean had already gotten himself lost, or was it Sam that had gotten lost? Either way, the circumstances weren't exactly stellar.

Trees surrounded him and he didn't realize he'd long since past the point of being able to see something other than trees a good ways back. Which direction had he run from, again? Sam turned in a full circle, but everything appeared just the same.

"How doth the little Samuel, solve each and every case? Is it perhaps his cleverness, or just his scary face?" A chuckle.

Sam froze. That voice, that obnoxious, faintly taunting, all-too familiar voice. A voice he hadn't thought to hear again.

"Gabriel?" Sam turned to find a man before him, Gabriel-or rather, Loki, dressed in black pants and a tight-fitting black shirt striped with purple, and a pair of black-and-purple striped cat ears to compliment a tail.

The man grinned in what could only be described as cattishly, revealing rows of fangs. "Cheshire, actually. As in, The Cheshire Cat. But you can call me Chesh."

Sam was stunned a moment, too much so to do anything other than stare until he found Gabriel before him in an instant and just a few inches away.

"What's wrong, gigantor? Cat got your tongue?" Gabriel's, or Cheshire's grin-apparently-widened.

Sam wasn't amused, and was too stunned to be even alarmed. "Gabriel...you're dead. Lucifer, he-"

"-I told you, name's Cheshire." The man suddenly floated up from the ground and laid in front of Sam in mid-air lazily. "This 'Gabriel', he a friend of yours?"

Sam's stunned expression slowly morphed into a frown and then a more defensive expression. "Don't play dumb. This is all you, right? 'Wonderland'?"

Cheshire tilted his head. "Are you some kind of nutjob, kid? How many times I gotta say it? Che-shire. Say it slowly."

Sam was confused now. This was so utterly Gabriel, this whole whimisical, obnoxious idea and reality...but the reality was, Gabriel was dead, wasn't he? And if he weren't, what would be the point of all of this?

"Fine. You're Cheshire, and I don't have time for this." Sam started to move around him, but a tail slinked around and caught Sam by the shoulder, strong as a hand as Cheshire whirled him around. "And where might you be going?"

Sam jerked away from the tail and eyed the other warily. At this point, it was such a strange experience that he wasn't entirely sure how to react. And the Gabriel-Cheshire had thrown him off a bit, but he hadn't seemed like a threat, more like painkillers-gone-wrong and as such he hadn't been on guard. But if the other was going to try to stop him...

"Don't worry, kid. I'm not going to eat you or anything." Cheshire chuckled. "Just wondering, since you seemed so lost before, how you think you're gonna get somewhere now."

Good point. "I'm looking for my brother." Sam admitted. Strange as it was, his baddie-sense just wasn't tingling for Cheshire, and he didn't exactly have a choice at the moment, did he? "Have you seen him?"

"May-_bee_." Cheshire drew the word out popped it a bit at the end as he eyed Sam. "What would you do if you found him? Where would you go?"

"Home, hopefully, so if you know where he is-"

"-Home? Now where's that?" Cheshire asked, like an interested child.

"What do you care?" Cheshire moved a bit closer and Sam took a step back.

"You know what they. Curiosity killed the 'me' and all." Cheshire seemed to find that quite amusing and grinned broadly again.

"Look, will you just tell me if you know where my brother is?" Sam tried again.

"I know where he is. But I still don't see why you want to know, or where you'll go if you find him."

"Why wouldn't I want to know?"

"Why would you?" Cheshire replied back easily and Sam shook his head.

Sam sighed. "Nevermind," he muttered, "I'll find him myself." Sam started to turn away when Cheshire appeared before him again and at that, Sam reached for the knife in his back-pocket.

The knife that was no longer there.

Cheshire's tail held the hilt of the knife and he gave a drawling, toothy smile at Sam. "Looking for this?" Sam's eyes narrowed and Cheshire sighed as he held his tail, and thus the knife, out to Sam. "Here, take it." Sam's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "I'm not your enemy, kiddo. Just a curious little bystander. I mean, really...if you find this brother of yours, what's the point? And if you can leave here, well where's your home? You don't have one, do you? Sticks and stones and nothing solid?"

Sam hesitated as he eyed the cat-man before he took the knife and gripped the hilt tightly, ready to use it if necessary. He couldn't figure out the 'Cheshire's' angle. "He's my brother. I'm not going to leave without him."

"Haven't you already?"

"...What?"

"You went downstairs, didn't you?" Cheshire floated down and suddenly zipped back up as he spoke. "And came back up. DIdn't seem to want to find him then, so what changed?"

Sam stiffened. "...How do you know that?"

"I'm the Cheshire. It's my job to know things. Just like it's your job to hunt things. And Winter's job to ice the flowers, I mean that both ways, by the way..."

What had changed? Sam, albeit Soulless Sam, had snatched away Dean's apple-pie life. That was what had changed. If Sam had been himself, he'd have wanted nothing more than to have run straight to Dean. Part of him would have balked at it, because Dean had suffered enough and because he didn't want to relive any aspect of Hell. But the other part? The 'Sammy' part, would have wanted to run to his big brother. To the safety, and familiarity, and understanding of the truest family that he had. He loved Bobby like a father, but he and Dean...

Yeah, their relationship probably was a little unnatural, but so the Hell what? They were brothers. Always.

Even Soulless Sam had known that in some critical way, so much so that despite his logical desire to have Dean hunting by his side, he'd left him to Lisa and Ben. Even though he had no feelings or sentimentality, he had the innate knowledge that his brother deserved happiness-even if he couldn't begin to fathom said happiness, even if he couldn't respect the desire. Soulless Sam had gone against Samuel to insist that Dean be left alone, and true-the first chance he'd gotten to change that-he had. But a year was a long time to hold out anyway.

And now? It was another toss up between the parts of him. The part that wanted Dean back in that life, with a good woman who loved him and a boy who he could tell meant the world to Dean. And damned if Dean wasn't a good man and a great father, better at both than he realized. But, maybe selfishly, he was almost glad that the other had been forced back into the life, and forced back to being with him. Glad that Dean had chosen to stay.

"Helllllo? Earth to Sammy, come in, Sammy?"

"Don't call me that." Sam replied automatically as he regained his conscious train of thought and fixed his gaze on the cat-man before him.

"Fine, _kid_. So you got an answer yet?"

"He's my brother. Of course I'd look for him."

"Broken record, much? 'He's my brother'. Okay, I get it, so it's just some misplaced sense of fraternal loyalty? But not actually what you _want_?"

"That's not what I said." Sam replied immediately, and why was he arguing with Cheshire again?

"Sounded like it. I just don't get it, what's the point? Just because you're brothers...what?"

"We look out for each other." Maybe he was sounding a bit like a broken-record, but it was hard to think clearly, things were getting jumbled and he had a sneaking suspicion that it was something to do with the Cheshire's presence.

"Yeah, and I look out for my tail, doesn't mean I'd go selling my soul for it. Or jumping into gaping holes of fiery torment."

Sam frowned as he regarded Cheshire for a moment. He'd thought perhaps that it was some strange figment produced by his mind as part of the world, and that was why it had looked and acted like Gabriel, and known things...but if he didn't know better-

"-Fine, so let's say you find your brotherly bud. How does a person with no home, go home?"

Well didn't that question just strike a chord. Home. Where the Hell was home for him? That cursed house, rebuilt after the fire that stole his mother? A slew of crappy-hotel rooms? The occasional crashes at Singer Salvage? The flaming pit he'd spent a century, the longest portion of his existence, in? The few nights he'd camped out in the Impala with Dean? That was definitely looking at a home from a physical standpoint. And from that standpoint, he honestly didn't have one. Hunters didn't have homes. Period.

"Home. It's a funny word. Children think of houses. Me? I'm pretty partial to a certain Duchess, but, hey, who's counting?"

"A Duchess is your home?" Sam's faintly incredulous and mildly sardonic question broke him of his thoughts.

"Why not? Who says a home's a place you gotta stay, eh? Call me a hopeless romantic, but isn't a home more like, well...where you're welcome? Like when it's five a.m. and you're too hopped up on cat-nip to know your tail from your...well, anyway-and you can just give 'em a holler and there they are with a back-rub and a bowl of cream so sweet it'll make your teeth fall out. And that little trick with the uh-_tail_. Mmm." Cheshire gave a little shiver that Sam found...a bit unsettling, but the dopey, cat-infused words made some measure of sense.

A home in a person? Now that might be something that he could relate to. In the end, it was his 'home' that had saved him. That glance through the window at a broken little soldier Dean had been sentimental enough to leave. The memories of their time on the road. And if he wanted to be honest, weren't those really some of the best times of his life? He had some great memories with Jess, and his 'normal' life...but times with Dean were just...better. It had been memories of Dean that gave him the strength to free himself from Lucifer, or at least take control, and stop the Apocalypse. Because he'd looked into that car and seen the only real home he'd ever known: Dean.

"Tell me where Dean is." Sam said suddenly as his gaze fell on the expectant-looking Cheshire.

"Ooh, I love it when you get all authoritative. Go on, say something else. Say 'bite me'." Cheshire purred. He sighed when Sam seemed unamused. "Well don't you get it yet?"

"Get what?"

"Answer my question and maybe you'll get it, and then you can find this brother of yours."

"...I want to find my brother. And, why the Hell I'm telling you this-I don't know, but...my home is wherever my brother is. So there. I want to go home, can't do it without him."

"You really are a girl, kiddo, you know that?"

Sam shot him an irritated look.

"Not your fault though. I do kind of have this natural truth-thing going for me. Ya ever hear of 'you can't lie to a cat'?"

"No." Sam said with a faint scowl.

"Yeah, well. Sounds reasonable so...that's about how it goes. So don't feel too bad about getting all mopey and bleeding your little heart out. I have that effect on people. That and giving them the innate desire to bow prostrate at my feet...but hey! That's a story for another day."

Sam was just plain annoyed at that point. "Where is Dean?"

"The answer's in the question, numbskull. Or in the answer to the question, at least. If you know where you're going, then you can't go back, right? Back to when you didn't know, when you were lost. You can't go forward if you're too busy looking back, and if you go forward, well...at least it takes you somewhere, right?"

"That makes no sense."

Cheshire sighed. "Like talking to a brick wall...a really _big_ brick wall." he muttered and then he clapped Sam on the back and pointed ahead of them. "Just go forward, kid. You'll find him. Long as you keep moving forward, you always will."

Sam wasn't sure whether Cheshire was spouting wisdom or nonsense, but there it was. So was it curiosity or something else that prompted the strange figment to urge him on. Then again, maybe it really was a product of his own mind-telling him what he needed to hear? "Right...well, uh...thanks, Cheshire."

The man grinned again and lifted a hand to ruffle Sam's hair, who pushed the other's hand away quickly. "Don't mention it, kiddo. Good luck and all that. You're gonna need it." his body began to fade away before Sam's eyes, and before long, there was just a head. "See ya 'round, Sam." A ping, a flash of a white-toothed grin, and then he was gone.

Sam decided two things. One, that he'd just been granted a minor epiphany by a cat-man. And two.

This was way too damned Disneyland for his tastes.

...

"Chuck? Nah, I'm the Caterpillar. And who are you?" The Not-Chuck blew a puff of smoke in Dean's direction, and he scowled.

"Ha. Ha. Real funny, asshole." Dean sniped and the Caterpillar lifted a brow.

"Am I being funny? I thought I was just asking a question." Caterpillar mused as he took a long drag off his hookah pipe before he blew a translucent green smoke in Dean's direction.

Dean coughed a bit. "Dude, knock it off. What is this place?"

"Wonderland." came the short, almost thoughtful reply although the Caterpillar seemed to be quite alert while regarding Dean.

"...O..kay...How'd you get here anyway?"

"You keep asking questions, but you still haven't answered mine. Who are you?"

"Dean frigging Winchester, you want an autograph? Cut the crap, Chuck."

"Name's Caterpillar, not Chuck, 'Dean frigging Winchester', but you're still not answering. I don't care _who you are_, I just want to know, _who are you_?" he seemed rather pleased with himself and chuckled as he took another long drag of his pipe.

"Same damned thing." Dean was annoyed now, and a bit confused. He was getting the idea that it wasn't a joke, but if this wasn't Chuck, then who, or what, was it? Just a product of this 'Wonderland' place? He didn't remember the story as well as he thought, but then, he was pretty sure it had been a porn [same as Snow White] so...

"You can be someone, without being something, or something without being someone. Or someone who isn't even you. There's a lot of possibilities, actually." Caterpillar mused. "So I mean, who _is_ Dean frigging Winchester? Just wondering."

"The Hell kinda question is that?" Dean growled, apparently more bothered by the inanity of the question than the ludicrocity of the situation and that he was actually being asked it. "Screw this, I don't have time." he started to turn away when a pink-ish cloud of smoke drifted past and twirled in the air before it dissipated.

"Don't have time to figure out who you are? C'mon, Dean, no one's _that_ busy."

Dean turned slowly to stare at Not-Chuck with a frown. He wasn't so sure that it wasn't him...but how could it be? This whole damned world felt off. "I know who I am. Dean Winchester. Badass hunter and resident lady-killer. Happy now, worm-boy?"

"Caterpillar." he corrected archly through another puff of smoke, this time a hazy blue. "Well that might be who you are, but still not really answering, now is it? A teacher is a teacher because they teach, but that's not really who they are, is it? Who you are isn't defined by who you are based on what you are. So who are you really?"

Dean felt like the other was giving him a mental loop with all those little reversing questions, but he thought he almost understood what the other was getting at. If he wasn't a hunter or a lady-killer, then what was he? Who was Dean Winchester? And that kind of inquiry just pissed him the Hell off.

"What's it to you?" Dean growled.

"Nothing, really. It was just on your mind pretty heavy. You don't really know who you are, right? Can't choose between the apple pie and the bloody whiskey?"

Dean stiffened. "Listen, you son of a bi-"

"Sam's big brother. Ben's almost-father. Lisa's almost-husband. Castiel's friend. John's son. Mary's boy. Bobby's almost-son. The Righteous Man. The breaker of the first seal. A hero. A bastard. Undeserving to be saved. Belonging in Heaven." The Caterpillar named them all as though tick-marking them off.

"You _are_ Chuck." Dean snarled, after a slight bit of surprised hesitation.

"Nope." Another puff of smoke. "I'm the Caterpillar. I watch Wonderland, everyone that comes or goes, and I see inside each and every one of them. I see the darkness in you, and the light. But you know what? Neither's good or evil. It's what you make of it. And you vastly underestimate your potential, Dean." The Caterpillar chided.

Dean wanted to climb on that mushroom and throttle him.

"You don't know a damned thing about me."

"Oh?" The Caterpillar blew a puff of smoke, and suddenly, there was a hazy form of Lisa in violet smoke that solidified into a translucent but properly-colored version. She gave Dean a sad, half-smile, and Dean's expression became pained until she disappeared suddenly. "I know you're pretty heartbroken, but you won't admit it."

"You-"

The Caterpillar blew again and an angry, red smoke formed a grim-looking Castiel who gazed on Dean with a blank expression and Dean cursed as he swung a fist at the smoke which dissipated at the touch of his hand. "You feel betrayed and confused."

"That's it, you-"

Another puff, and it was Sam and Ben stepping towards him. Ben's expression hurt and angry, Sam's soft and forgiving. Both were equally painful and Dean gritted his teeth as they faded. "Guilt. Because you love them so much and feel like you failed them. Your responsibilities. And that's just the tip of the iceberg. You constantly beat yourself up for stuff that just isn't your fault, Dean. One man can't save the world."

"Yeah, well, he can try." Dean, through some intense act of will power, kept his position away from the Caterpillar for the moment.

"Sam needs his brother, he said so. And Dean needs his brother too, you said so. Ben and Lisa need a Dean. Castiel needs him as well. And Bobby-"

"I don't know what you're getting at, but we're done here." Dean growled as he turned to stalk away, stopped when this time the Caterpillar actually stood before him and peered up at him with an expression both thoughtful and sympathetic.

The Caterpillar touched a finger to his head and a bright blue dot formed. "Tell me something, Dean. Humor me. Am I white, or blue?"

"What?"

"Am I white, or blue?" he slipped off his jacket to reveal his bare white arms and he held them out before he motioned to the dot on his head. "Well?"

"Uh, right. How about option 'C'. You're crazy." Dean started to push past but the Caterpillar moved over and he gave the other a warning look. "Get out of my way."

"Dean, humor me, please?"

Dean glared down at the man a moment before he muttered. "White."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"What the Hell do you mean 'why'? Look at you! Painting your head doesn't change that."

The Caterpillar smiled then. "Ah. So what you're saying is...you're still yourself, even with a mar, or a scar, or a failure...painting a dot on my head, you failing to save a life...it's the same thing. It doesn't change your essential self, right? You're still Dean. You still try. And it still matters."

Dean stared down at the Caterpillar, and he couldn't quite find a response. He tried and mangled it. "That's...not...it's different..."

"No." A hand lifted to Dean's shoulder and though he tensed, it wasn't shrugged off. "Stop trying to believe the worst of yourself. Hell is a spot on your head, a dark one, admittedly. Many of your sorrows are. But it doesn't define you. Your mistakes, not even your successes define you. You aren't your job, Dean. Who you are is the man who does the job, even when no one else does. Who gives up his own happiness, on the chance that he might spare another's. You're a better man than most, give yourself some credit."

"You're crazy." Dean spoke the words quietly though, almost a whisper and his expression was faintly troubled. He should be socking the man in the face, so why was he listening? Why did the words almost...make sense? He'd never been much fond of Chuck, but the other was familiar, someone that he knew and this Caterpillar felt the same...and more. Strangely inviting.

"Maybe, but aren't we all a little crazy?" The Caterpillar's smile widened as he squeezed Dean's shoulder. "There's a lot of responsibility on these shoulders, but you bear it well. Remarkably so. There are people who love you and who are proud...you make a difference you can't even know."

A puff of smoke erupted on it's own and formed a hazy vision before Dean, snapshots of moments in the lives of those he'd saved. Lives they had thanks to him. They didn't all know it, would never thank him, but it was there. Because of him.

"Who are you, Dean?"

"I'm me. You wormy son of a bitch." Dean muttered as the vision cleared and the Caterpillar laughed aloud before he found himself alone, but a little path was cleared in the trees and he suspected that it would lead to his brother.

Dean took one last look at the now empty-mushroom and shook his head. Crazy, huh?

He could live with that.

...

Trust the Gabriel look-a-like to screw him over. Just how long had he been walking anyway? Sam had seen nothing but forest and no sign of his brother. He'd had plenty of time to think things over though, and it still boggled him. But all the same...he'd realized a few things, hadn't he, or weren't they really what he already knew? Not that it mattered though. Sam's feelings in regards to Dean were just another tether keeping Dean away from what could be a truly good life for him. As long as he felt like he had to watch Sam, he wouldn't watch out for himself. Sam's happiness came first, even when they were kids. It had been Dean who'd given up portions of his food to make sure that Sam had had enough. And Dean who'd actually robbed a house just to give Sam some semblance of Christmas. Dean who'd sold his soul just to bring Sam back to life. Dean who'd refused to give up on him even when he'd gone his own version of Darkside. That and more. Dean wasn't the only person that Sam cared for, but he was the only one that Sam could truly think of as 'home'. But as for Dean...he had another home, the literal and metaphorical kind, and he'd given it up-partially for Sam.

Just how was he supposed to fix that, or even equate that? What could Sam give that would be equivalent to that devotion?

"I think I get it now. Souls are just an excuse to sit around and whine, right?"

Sam froze, he recognized that voice and as he turned, he found himself faced with...himself. The Soulless Sam.

Shit.

...

Dean wasn't much for brooding on something like a conversation with a hopped up Caterpillar-Not-Chuck, but damned if he wasn't doing it anyway. Everything he'd said had been much of what he'd yearned to hear and he hadn't even realized it. Because that would have meant admitting to himself that he needed reassurance, that maybe he wasn't so sure that he wasn't the fallen man he'd believed himself to be. That it wasn't a failure every single time he messed up.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, right, Dean?"

_"You're gonna die, Dean! And this is what you're gonna become!" The black-eyed Dean grinned._

"You." Dean turned and faced himself, black-eyes included.

The other Dean smiled, mirthless and cold.

"Me."

...

First Azazel, now this? At least he could blame Soulless Sam on Wonderland, maybe, but Hell. He was done with this crap. "I beat you. You shouldn't be here."

"How's that?"

"I shot you, remember?" Sam tried to adopt a colder tone than he could really make himself feel, he was unsettled and anxious, in truth. Soulless Sam unnerved him, in a very Dorian Gray* way. He knew that the other was poison to him, as it were, that there was no good that would come of acknowledging him. But there was something distinctly fascinating about it all the same, looking at the other version of him. At a Sam ruled purely by logic and rationality and base, physical drive. A hunter to the extreme, his opposite in so many ways and his partner in so many others.

"I think you're confusing me with someone else. I'm Tweedle-Dum." The Soulless Sam said with a faintly lifted brow, a bit of mimicry of human expression.

Sam wasn't sure whether or not to laugh at that. Well, if nothing else-he'd confirmed beyond all reasonable doubt that this world was some sort of weird Wonderland recreation. But if Gabriel wasn't Gabriel, then this was just a figment too? But if this was really Soulless Sam in the confines of Wonderland's reality...then did that mean that the other was Gabriel, and alive?

"All that self-doubt. All of those jumbled thoughts. That's why you'll never measure up, isn't it?" Despite lacking emotions or feelings, Sam had noticed that Soulless Sam seemed to take an awful lot of self-satisfaction in his cruelty and egoism.

"I'm stronger than you." Sam said firmly. "A soul is strength."

"Really? Because I was under the impression that a soul was weakness. Suffering. Sorrow. Pain. Regret. Doubt. And a litany of other 'fun' traits. But you would know better, right, soul-boy? What's it like, living in a constant state of self-annihilation?"

Was this to be a theme of Wonderland, then? Making him second-guess himself?

"You don't know, you've never had a soul."

"Maybe not." the other Sam, Tweedle-Dum, shrugged. "But does it really matter? I've seen you, curled up and shivering in a worthless heap. I've seen you crying out for your brother in your dreams like a sniveling child. You're pathetic. Fearful, and doubting, and depressed. I'm the better hunter. I don't have those things to get in the way."

"You are-" Sam started an accusation but was cut off.

"-I am Tweedle-Dum. I can see in your head. So don't confuse me with that soulless version of yourself."

"Fine. What do you want from me?"

"Hey, you're the one who came walking through my neck of the woods. Now you pay the piper." Tweedle-Dum shrugged.

"Pay with what?"

Tweedle-Dum's lips, Sam's lips really, curved into a mirthless smile. "Your life, of course."

...

"So what? This me going crazy or something?" Dean regarded the black-eyed Dean casually, despite the sudden spike in his heart rate and a mind racing to come up with a rational excuse for all of this and a method to combat the other if necessary.

"Nah. That happened a _long_ time ago." Black-eyed Dean kept his smile, made all the eerier by being on a face that should have been Dean's alone.

"Alright then. What the Hell are you, and what the Hell do you want from me?"

"Using 'Hell' twice in one sentence. Very intimidating, Dean. Next time, try glaring a little too. That always helps." Dean's jaw clenched and the black-eyed Dean chuckled. "Name's Tweedle-Dee. And I'm just here because you just won't leave me the 'Hell' alone."

"Tweedle-Dee? That supposed to be funny?"

"You supposed to be a hunter?" Tweedle-Dee drawled back. He took advantage of the lack of speedy reply to continue. "From what I see poking around that twisted little mind of yours, it's all whine, bitch, moan, repeat. Not much going on downstairs either. Lights are on but nobody's home, eh, Dean?"

"Shut up."

"Nice response. How long it take ya to come up with-" A gunshot stopped his speech, but didn't do much it seemed as it passed right through.

"You're a ghost?"

Tweedle-Dee chuckled as he moved with inhuman speed to stand before Dean and pat his cheek patronizingly. "Don't you just wish?" And then his hand was against Dean's chest as he sent the other hurtling back into a tree with crushing force.

...

Sam found himself in a fight for his life with himself-pardon-_Tweedle-Dum _yet again. The world had to be manipulating his mind and memories somehow to create the figment before him. He'd been slammed into the ground twice and was pretty sure he'd gotten his jaw nearly broken. In return, he'd managed a mostly-blocked kick. The other Sam was skilled, he'd admit, but he knew better than to believe they were _his_ skills. They were part and parcel of 'Wonderland', a little figment booster shot. Call it a hunch.

"So, what? Knocking me around is fun for you?"

"Sammy.." the way Tweedle-Dum said the name was mocking, a personal address to the souled Sam. "You just don't get it. I can't help it if you're weaker than me. It's kinda what happens when you'd rather spend your time practicing the fetal position than, I don't know, doing your job?"

"I do my job just fine, thanks." Sam said as he advanced in a slow circle and Tweedle-Dum followed suit.

"That right? Well, we'll see, won't we? Especially with that little devil on your shoulder. What did Dean say when you-oh, that's right...you haven't told him. You'd rather lie to him...again. Because that worked out so well last time." Tweedle-Dum smirked faintly.

He was like the Soulless Sam and yet not, and Sam couldn't figure out it's angle. Was it just trying to make him second-guess himself? A trap of Wonderland? He didn't recall Alice ever fighting for her life against herself, but it figured that they-Dean. Crap. Did that mean that Dean was in trouble?

A fist slammed into his stomach and he doubled over before a hand gripped his hair and yanked his head up. "I'm the one you'd better pay attention to, Sam."

Sam took the opportunity to send his own fist slamming into the other's stomach, and it caused the other to release him and stumble backwards. "I'm not lying to Dean, he just...he's better off-"

"-Not knowing? Not helping his baby brother? Finding out later that you've got ole yellow eyes sitting on your shoulder urging you to rip your brother's pretty little head off? Yeah. Good job with that 'not-lying'." Tweedle-Dum chuckled. "Admit it, weak as you are, Dean's weaker. And you know it."

"He's not weak."

"That's not what you told Ruby...honestly, do you have any idea what your brother really did in Hell?"

Sam stiffened. "You can't know more than I do about it."

"Oh, but I can. I can see everything in your mind, I can pay attention to all the little details that you missed. You have no idea what Dean is capable of. He might even be more of a monster than you are."

Sam gritted his teeth at that before the pair advanced at the same time. He tried to kick the other's legs from under him but Tweedle-Dum grabbed his leg and yanked him off balance before he set a hard kick into his side. "Dean was finally happy, and then _you_ came along. What's funny is that he could be happy still-but you just won't let him. You'd rather wallow in self-pity and drag him along for the ride."

"Shut. Up!" Sam grabbed the other's shirt and yanked him down before he tried to pin him, and the pair went back and forth on the ground, fighting each other. He slammed a fist into Tweedle-Dum's face and when his nose bled, he grinned bloodily.

"What's wrong? You don't want to hear the truth?" he surged forward so that he was pinning Sam instead. "You went to Hell and back. You'd think that might make you a little stronger. But you just can't move on. You were so wrapped up in pretty little Jess you almost lost your brother. Then in Ruby, and you almost lost him again. And then there was the whole Hell bit."

"I made a mistake."

"Only one?"

Sam's reply was to try to knock the other off of him, but he found himself pinned by the arms instead. "You keep doubting yourself, Sam. You make yourself weak and you make your brother weak with you. Not that you'd notice, because you're too busy reliving the past, crying over your miserable life."

"You talk too much." Sam said as he slammed his knee up and into the other's groin, causing him to jerk away. Yeah, it wasn't exactly the most guy-honorable move. But effective. Sam slammed his foot into the other's head in a painful kick that sent Tweedle-Dum to the ground. His words had been painful to hear, at first, but now they just made him angry. Who the Hell was this character to tell him something like that? But wasn't it just a little true...keeping secrets from Dean had gotten them in trouble in the first place. And as for bringing Dean down...well, Dean certainly wasn't at the top of his game while he was too busy fussing over Sam. That made sense, at least. But how could he just let go of everything? Of Hell? How was he supposed to move on from that?

"You won't." Tweedle-Dum said, and he'd apparently known what Sam was thinking. "You'll be alone, just like always. Your brother will die, because of you. You'll never get stronger because you can't even do something as simple as move on. All it takes is moving forward but you? You're one step forward and eight steps back, you little twit." he'd risen to cast a mocking glance at Sam. "Yeah, you got ass-reamed in Hell. Big deal. Are you alive now, or aren't you?"

"What do you care?"

"I don't. But you do." Tweedle-Dum said somewhat cryptically before he charged Sam again.

...

Dean's body felt like it had been hit by a damned truck. There was a dent in the tree where he'd hit it, and a smaller dent in a tree a few feet off where he'd been slammed again. Whatever the Hell this 'Tweedle-Dee' was, it was strong.

"C'mon, Dean. You can do better than that, can't you? What happened to all that potential? You were Alistair's favorite, you know, and not just because of all that Righteous Man-gone-bad crap."

"Shut up."

"Again with the big hitters. Just admit it. You miss it don't you? Back when things were simple...'bleed the bitch', 'rip the prick's tongue out', back when Alistair was holding your bloody little hand."

"I said shut up!" Dean slammed into the other Dean and sent his fist flying into the other's face. His nose cracked and bled, and Dean tried another punch that failed when he received a powerful kick in the stomach that sent him back. How the other had gotten his legs up to do that was a mystery, and damned annoying.

"What did that first one call you? She thought you were a demon, then it was just monster. Always monster. I guess you're the thing under the bed these days, right, Dean?"

Dean gritted his teeth as he rose and glared at the other. When he didn't reply, Tweedle-Dee continued.

"You think Sam knows? What would he do if he knew what his big brother had _really_ done down there. Sure, Sam had a century in Hell but it was just torture. You? The things you did-" he had to move to the side as Dean attempted to grab him. Guns didn't work, but physical force did. "I just wonder what you think in all this? How you could touch Lisa with those blood-stained hands, how you could tell Ben what to do like you're even a real person..."

"I am a real damned person, you son of a bitch." Dean snarled. He was just plain angry and acting off of that.

"Just keep telling yourself that. You don't even know what you really want. Like this kick you're on about saving Castiel. Do you really want to go to all that trouble for him?"

"What the Hell does that mean?"

"Sure, he helped you back in the day, fell for you. 'Cas', he was then. Real sweet, naive little prick of dick-with-wings. But now? He let Ben and Lisa be kidnapped. He broke Sam's wall. You told him he was your brother and his response was basically a big 'fuck you'. And now you're gonna run off and save him? So typical. You're so busy trying to save everyone, you don't even pay attention to what you're saving anymore. Like Eve's little pet boys. Reminded you of the good old days, right? Back when you and Sam were still riding with Daddy?"

Dean's face became an expression of rage as he charged the other and found himself tripped and sent sprawling into the ground. Tweedle-Dee had a good grasp of Dean's moves, and was faster and stronger, it seemed, besides.

"And then there's Adam. You'd think that might matter to you, but Death gives you one little 'no' and do you even bother trying anything else? You're going to save that dick Castiel from dying, but not even bother to save your own _brother's_ soul. Again?"

At that, Dean froze and it only just seemed to register in his mind. It hadn't occured to him to try and ask about Adam again. Death had said that he might pull a soul once, but not twice, but if he...instead of Castiel...but...

"It's funny how astounding to you it always is that you can't save everyone. And you take it so damned hard. Like you should somehow have personal responsibility for everyone. The hubris on you, boy, is legendary." he chuckled.

"You don't know a damned thing about me. So you can see inside my head? Big freaking whoop. You don't know me."

Tweedle-Dee moved so fast that he seemed to appear behind Dean. "You sure about that?" he grabbed the other's neck and head-locked him as he began to choke him. "You let yourself bleed and cry over every bit of spilt blood. You're so busy being a little pain in the ass, you can't work properly. Can't allow yourself any happiness. Because you don't even think you deserve it? Why is that, exactly? All that stuff you did? Sam did that or worse...yeah, you tortured some souls in Hell. But Sammy? He kick-started the Apocalypse by sucking down demon blood like it was water. And he flayed a bitch to do it. He had the Devil inside of him, by his own choice. 'Noble' though it was...so I guess if you're beyond redemption, he is too, right?"

"No." Dean grit out as he tried to force the other's arm off.

"No? Let me guess. It's 'different' for you? You're not that special, Dean. Sorry to break it to you. You've made some pretty big mistakes, but even I gotta admit, you've done better than worse. You'd see that, if you weren't so busy playing pity-party. Oh well, too late now. Sam should be finished off by now by my brother, he's Tweedle-Dum-by the way, and you-"

An elbow slammed into his stomach with surprising force and he stumbled back as Dean glared. "Where is Sam?"

"Ooh, did I make you mad? Well, he's that way." Tweedle-Dee pointed. "But you can't get to him without going through me. And let's face it, you're just not up for that, are ya, kiddie? How are you going to kill me without a gun?"

Dean charged the other again and the pair soon found themselves fighting on the ground. Tweedle-Dee laughed when Dean's fist connected with his face and he slammed his fist against the other's side in return. "Poor Dean. Your brother's gonna die on your watch-again."

"I said shut up, damnit!" Dean was sick and tired of whatever this thing was. The black-eyed Dean from his dreams had been like him, but this Tweedle-Dee fellow was just wearing his face. They weren't the same.

"Just admit that I'm right, then. And I'll be satisfied. You can't have it both ways, are you Hell's prodigal son, a monster in a meatsuit? Or are you the Righteous Man?"

"Neither." Dean said as he rolled atop Tweedle-Dee before he pulled away and stepped back to eye the other from a more defensible position. "Screw the religious crap. I'm Dean Winchester, you can shove everything else up your ass."

Tweedle-Dee smirked faintly. "I know what you're afraid, you know. What you're _really_ afraid of. Sam and Bobby are about all you have left, and if they leave you too...well, you're just screwed, ain'tcha, kid? But still, ya just keep pushing them away. Must suck, being your own worst enemy."

Dean was _done_. He didn't care if this thing was wearing his face, or someone's grandma, he was through listening to this crap. Dean had taken it from the Chuckapillar, but this black-eyed wannabe was just pissing him off. How the Hell was he supposed to think through this anyway? What did it matter if he was a sinner or a saint, who the Hell cared? Dean was living off of borrowed time anyway.

Tweedle-Dee appeared behind Dean suddenly and he felt an arm slide around his shoulder as Tweedle-Dee murmured by his ear. "You wanna know what your problem is, Dean?" he rapped his knuckles against Dean's chest. "You're a Tin Man. You got no heart." Tweedle-Dee chuckled and Dean didn't hesitate. He jerked an elbow into the other's gut before he turned and took advantage of the other's unbalance to grab his head and put all the force he could muster into a quick, jerking motion, one that snapped the other's neck hard.

"Wrong movie, jackass." Dean said coolly as he let the body drop, actually a bit taken aback that it had work, and further taken aback when the body simply disintegrated and seemed to disappear.

_"You're a Tin Man. You got no heart."_

Dean couldn't help but smile faintly at that. A Tin Man?

The black-eyed prick had no idea.

...

"And this is it. Tragic. The final moments of Sam Winchester and all he can do is...choke. Pun intended." Tweedle-Dum's fingers were clamped tight around Sam's throat, held back up against a tree as the asphyxiation process was nearing it's completion. It hadn't taken him long to get Sam into that position. "They say your life flashes before your eyes. What's that looking like, Sam?"

Sam let out a gurgle as he tried in vain to unclench those fingers. He was going to die. Here, in some twisted fantasy world. And Dean? Who was going to look out for Dean then? He couldn't die now...couldn't... Stars danced before his eyes, but before the blackness dancing at the edge of them could overtake his vision completely, he heard an all-too welcome voice and found himself dropped.

"You guys need a damned mute button." A fist collided with Tweedle-Dum's face, hard enough to crack bone as he stumbled back and dropped Sam.

Sam coughed and wheezed as his hand flew to his throat and he struggled to catch his breath. Strong, warm hands latched onto him and pulled him up as his brother's voice came urgently into his ear.

"You okay, Sammy?"

Sam couldn't manage much more than a nod and a choked sort of agreement as he inhaled heavily to reintroduce his lungs to the concept of breathing and air, but it was enough. Dean looked first relieved, and then pissed. He let his brother lean against the tree before he turned to face the other Sam.

Tweedle-Dum frowned as he rubbed his offended cheek. "This isn't how it's supposed to be. You should be dead. You fight yourself, not me."

"I don't do 'should bes'." Dean said as he took a step forward and stood protectively in front of his brother. "What I do is kick the ass of any son of a bitch dumb enough to mess with my brother."

Sam heard those words and felt a warmth spread in his chest that had nothing to do with being able to breathe again. Screw what the figments said. Dean was real, and strong, and _here_. He didn't want to burden Dean, he didn't want to make him bear his weight, but the fact that he was doing it anyway...

"Coming from you, that was down right sentimental." Tweedle-Dum mocked before he shook his head. "Well, did you learn anything at least?"

Dean's cocky expression became a frown at that. There it was again. 'Learning'. A sneaking suspicion was dawning on him-one that had been with him from the get-go that something just wasn't right here. And not in the being-groped-by-flowers sense, either. More like a missing-the-big-picture sense. These things wanted to kill him and Sam, but wanted them to be learning lessons too? Something was definitely going on, but he wasn't about to play into the little game.

"Other than you bastards talk too much? Nah, not really." Dean aimed his gun for the other suddenly, just in case it might work, and sure enough the other Sam moved out of his line of fire quickly. It wasn't a certainty, but it led him to believe that his bullets might just work on the other Sam, or Tweedle-Dum, rather.

But that was only if he could tell which was which in order to shoot.

As Tweedle-Dee moved away, he bent down and hurled a handful of dirt at Dean. It was a first, obviously, and he cursed as he was forced to take a minute to wipe his eyes and try to clear them of the dusty debris.

"Dean!"

Dust-blurred eyes, now red and watering, opened and squinted at the scene before him. Identical Sams, side by side, wearing similar agitated expressions and both with red marks around their necks indicative of a strangling attempt.

Damnit.

"That's playing dirty." Dean growled, in reference to both the dust and the look-a-like game, actually. "Well, I can play that game too." he lifted his gun and moved it back and forth between them before he settled for a position between the pair.

Neither Sam's expression changed, they looked to each other before one spoke. "Dean! C'mon, man, you know who I am."

The other Sam looked affronted and turned his gaze to Dean. "He's lying! I'm Sam. You know me, Dean."

Dean looked between the pair. They were identical. Every detail was the same, the expressions were right, the words...so how the Hell was he supposed to figure out which one was his Sammy? "Right...tell me something only Sam would know, then." Dean challenged, but he quickly realized he'd spoken without really thinking.

Both Sams fixed him with a faintly annoyed, slightly exasperated look. "Dean," they chorused that in unison.

"-He has my memories."

"-He knows what I know."

Dean tried to divine from the phrasing of the statements which might be his brother, but they were the damned same to him. The second sounded more like Sam, he supposed, but it wasn't a guarantee and he didn't want to just shoot if he wasn't sure.

"Dean!" One of the Sams seemed a bit irritated. "I knew it was you right away with Dad and yellow-eyes, how can you not know me by now?"

"Don't listen to him, Dean." The other Sam's expression was calmer, almost too calm, in Dean's opinion. But those puppy-eyes he was giving Dean... "He's got my memories, but he's not me. You have to know that."

_That_ sounded more like his Sam, but again, he had to be sure.

"_My _memories, you mean." One Sam said to the other.

The other Sam fixed him with a faint glare. "No, I mean _mine_."

"Dean." both Sams turned to him suddenly, as if for him to decide the outcome of their little argument.

Dean stared between the two Sams a moment before he stepped forward. He aimed the gun at one Sam's head, and watched as a flicker of hurt and hesitant anxiety came into his expression. "Dean, look at me, you _know_ me."

Dean hesitated and then turned his gun onto the other Sam, whose eyes widened in similar hurt and anxiety, damn all. "Dean, come on...you said you were counting on me, well I'm counting on you too."

Dean slowly moved the gun away again and looked away for a second.

"Dean-"

"Shut up!" Dean's voice was sharp as he thought about it for a moment, and then he took a deep breath, lifted the gun-

-And fired.

The bullet lodged itself in the skull of one of the Sams, and he watched as the body made a choked noise before it fell and lay...bleeding? Why wasn't it disappearing like the other one? Horror rose within Dean...he'd shot the wrong Sam?

A pair of familiar eyes were fixed on Dean and he took a step back, unable to believe the mistake he'd made...he'd just...he'd killed his own brother? How could he have thought? "Sammy-" Pain laced the name as he dropped to his knees, only to feel like his heart might stop as the body disappeared. Did that mean-?

"Dean?" Sam's voice was soft as a hand pressed on his shoulder lightly and he found his little brother bent to regard him with concern. "Dean, I'm me. It's okay." he had been worried at first, despite himself. Dean hadn't seemed to know which was which and the other Sam was admittedly convincing. Then he'd shot and Sam thought that things were alright, until something Dean expected to happen didn't, apparently. Dean had been staring at the body expectantly, and when nothing happened, he looked like he'd been socked in the gut. The amount of pain shoved into his name was a good indicator that Dean thought he'd made a mistake, until the body disappeared and Sam realized what Dean had been waiting for, and what he must of thought that he had done.

"Dean?"

Dean looked a little pale, but he soon tilted his gaze up to Sam with a frown before he rose and socked his brother in the shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You're such a girl. You can't even take care of your own damned doppleganger."

"Yeah, this from the guy who was ten seconds away from crying over said doppleganger."

Dean scowled. "I thought he was...aw, shut up."

Sam smirked just faintly before his brow furrowed. "How'd you know it was me, Dean?"

Dean hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "Only the real Sam could pull off those lame ass puppy eyes."

"Puppy eyes?"

"You heard me."

Sam lifted a faint brow before he prompted. "Really."

Dean sighed and then shook his head. "What do you want me to say? I just...knew. Same as when you knew I was me, I guess. I just did."

Sam smiled lightly at that before he addressed the other issue. "So you had one too? A doppleganger?"

"Yeah, 'Tweedle-Dee'. I broke his neck." Dean said, with more satisfaction than Sam felt was correct but he supposed Dean was probably more than a bit irked by something wearing his face. Particularly after all those bad experiences with shifters.

"Was he the only one you saw?"

"Doppleganger?" Dean misunderstood. "Yeah. But hey, I saw someone else too. _Chuck_. I thought it was him, anyway. Guess it's some guy that looks like him though, called himself 'The Caterpillar'."

Sam made a mental note of the information. "I saw Gabriel, but he called himself the Cheshire Cat."

Dean's complacent expression became focused at that. "Gabriel? Was it-"

"No." Sam finished before Dean could. "Just part of this world, I think." Gabriel was dead, and surprisingly enough...he actually mourned the other, somewhere in between despising him. Gabriel a.k.a. the Trickster was kind of an obnoxious bastard, to put it mildly, but he'd given his life for them and been-in his own way-helping them all along. He didn't entertain the notion of being buddies with the witness-protected angel, but he would be lying if he said that he didn't wish that the other were still alive, amongst other things.

"So...Balthazar, us, Chuck, and Gabriel..."

"And we're not out of the woods yet." Sam noted, to which Dean scowled.

"You think there's more of these crackpots that look like people we know?"

"I'd bet on it."

"Of course." Dean said sarcastically as he shook his head and started walking. "Well, let's get going. Gank enough of these bastards and maybe we'll find a way home."

'Home'. There was that word again. Dean included him in it so easily, but did he really deserve it? What was the meaning behind all of this? Sam, like Dean, had long since moved past this idea that this was random happenstance.

"Sam? You look like someone kicked your dog." Dean noted as he eyed his brother, but the faint tinge of worry that bled into his voice led Sam to the conclusion that he was waiting for something yet again, this time, something along the lines of Sam collapsing in a miserable heap. Dean had just saved Sam's life...from his own doppleganger, maybe he _should_ collapse. The irony of it all was not lost on him, even if he was still unsure of what all was going on.

"I miss having a dog." Sam said absently, intentionally so as he started walking. It was better to throw Dean off topic then to have him dwell on what might be causing Sam's apparent distress.

"...Uh...sorry?"

"We should get one."

"A dog?" Dean sounded mildly incredulous. And then he scowled. "So it can pee in my baby? No thanks."

"If you get a car, I should at least have a dog." Sam countered, relieved that Dean seemed to have taken the bait.

"Yeah, 'cuz that's a fair trade." Dean shook his head. "You're not responsible enough for a dog." he mimicked John's words from long ago.

Sam scoffed. "This from the guy who could probably find a way to kill a rock."

"Some guys don't have time to take care of pets. They do guy things. Like get laid." Dean taunted in reply and he smirked faintly as Sam rolled his eyes.

Silence passed between them at that, but it was a comfortable one, almost comforting. A momentary distraction from the aggressive revelations of their dopplegangers, and the look-a-likes. "So what's next?"

"What?"

"You said this is like that book, right? So what happens?" Dean tilted his gaze to Sam.

"Ah." he paused to review what information he knew and made his way through it. "Well...I think this is just the first book, and from what I remember...there's a tea party...and the Queen of Hearts..."

"First book, so there's a second?"

"Yup. Something about red and white queens. And a monster called the Jabberwocky that Alice fights."

"And you read that crap?"

Sam paused to consider his answer before he replied honestly. "Sort of. Alice in Wonderland was...Jess' favorite 'kid' movie, so..."

Dean's expression blanked at that and he looked away and seemed to focus on their surroundings. But Sam knew it was his way of avoiding a touchy issue. He spared the other from having to even attempt a response by continuing on. "Maybe if we reach the end of the story, we'll get out of whatever this place is. Worth a shot."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Dean said firmly, not at all displeased to be spared a response. He paused a moment and then held up a hand to stop Sam from walking. "You hear that?"

"What?"

"Listen...you hear that?"

"_Highway to Hell! Highway to Hell!_" a faint chorus of those words, off-key to an almost ludicrous degree, could be faintly heard from the path ahead.

Dean and Sam exchanged a puzzled glance before Dean smirked. "ACDC. Maybe this world ain't so bad after all." he said as he headed in the direction of the music, followed by his brother.

Sam didn't share Dean's enthusiasm for a good deal of his music, but that song was particularly distasteful to him at this point. Something to do with spending a century in Hell, maybe?

_"Yeah, you got ass-reamed in Hell. Big deal. Are you alive now, or aren't you?" _

Was he too stuck on the past to move forward? Wasn't it only natural after what he'd been through to be...struck by it? Dean had been broken up too, but perhaps not as much as he'd thought. He'd been full of himself, drunk on demon blood and an enflamed ego thanks to a certain black-eyed skank. And he had to wonder about the doppleganger's words, as he did whenever someone mentioned Alistair. The way Dean had looked when Meg asked him if she'd be able to make Crowley, the King of Hell, talk. Because she was Alistair's apprentice, just like him, and he'd said 'yes'. Sam knew that Dean had tortured people, and that it had torn him apart, but he had to wonder just what Hell had taught Dean to be capable of.

Dean, meanwhile, was having his own mental conundrums. He didn't like being reminded of his time in Hell, or taunted about his family. But as for what the Chuckapillar said...how was he supposed to react? Dean...worth saving? He could think of a goodly number of people who'd disagreed but he supposed that, reluctant though he was to admit it-probably a testament to just how messed up he was-there were people who would disagree as well. And he'd be lying if he said that he didn't like the idea of being needed. Wanted. Relied up and counted upon and trusted. Dean supposed it was a lifelong craving, after working so hard for his father and trying to do right by his little brother. But what he'd done in Hell...if they knew, what would they say? Ben and Lisa? As for Bobby and Sam, they only knew what scratched the surface...

Who was Dean?

Damned good question.

As Dean and Sam cleared a few, last trees, they came to a clearing that was set up with a long table and a variety of chairs. The spread was messy and contained assorted tea-sets and little snacks, and so to the chairs- some were occupied.

A tea cup whizzed past Dean's head and shattered against a tree, and two pairs of Winchester eyes widened slightly as both tensed, ready to be on the defensive. The cup had come from the hand of someone whose face was hidden beneath a drooping, green hat. Beside him, a boy in a little light-blue suit looked on and Dean felt his breath still a bit as he saw the boy's face. "Ben?"

The boy seemed puzzled by the name and shook his head as he mouthed 'Doormouse'. Dean didn't get the reference and was pretty positive he'd misread the kid's lips. Clearly though, it wasn't Ben, and he was almost...a bit disappointed, struckl by a sudden, painful longing and nostalgia for that little home he'd built himself...with them. That was in the past though, and now he could never go back. Sam, beside him, was silent but he could feel his brother's eyes on him, which was why he carefully avoided looking the other's way. It was a strange little set-up, to be sure.

But what took them most by surprise was the last member of the little tea party.

"Hello, boys." A familiar, deep timbre. A rare but not unfamiliar smile, small and a little bittersweet. A rough, unshaven but damned welcome face.

Dean and Sam stared at the man before them in his striped-black suit and strange, bright green hat and it was Dean who tossed away common sense for the moment and found his voice first, just enough to manage a choked-

"Dad?"

**.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

***Dorian Gray is a reference to a book called The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's basically a man who becomes eternally youthful because of a painting of him that ages and takes all the horrors of his life instead of him. If he ever looks at the painting [or destroys it-is I think the gig in the actual book-can't remember for sure] then all of those years and horror will come rushing back. And since he's an evil son of biscuit, he gets whooped when he looks at it. Yikes. Not really sure why it occurred to me, but it did and I liked it enough to put it even though it meant explaining it just in case. XD **

**Menage a trois* [with fancy French accents] refers generally to a sexual innuendo of three, but there's a very notable line in the show where Balthazar alludes to a twelve-some instead of a threesome, so I threw that in there. XD douze is twelve. I don't think it technically works that way, but Bal did it first so it's not my fault. XD **

**And lastly, this was going to be a two-part story but now I think it'll be a three-part. This beginning, then the tea-party scene/meeting the Queens. Then the climactic Jabberwocky battle and going home. XD But we'll see. Took forever to write. As it happens, I'm not finished and it's now 2:05am and I get up for 12 1/2 hours of work at 5:40am. So...yes. FEEL FREE TO REWARD MY EFFORTS WITH NOTES OF LOVE. Just saying. Because I'm tired and worked hard many drowsy nights and...I gave Bal bunny ears. So there. XD Love Witchy~ **


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